Saturday, July 30, 2011

Postcard from Brooklyn.

Such a life that has been created. Hyper real, a constant dream which trembles in the blistering heat of the air and shivers in passionate determination. I am truly out to sea now, these weeks the tough call, where we pray that our little Brooklyn shoebox is built of analogy - an escape, just there, just outside the window.

In four weeks time we will be back in Copenhagen and I will be in the moment I have worked almost two years to reach. Work that has brought me my wife, a family of friends, countless adventures and sorrows, all building to a window, 8 days in length, to do what I do the best I can do it.

Then we wait - and watch the next moment come.

So here I sit, staring out at the escape.

And the heat presses itself hard at our window.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Friday, July 1, 2011

Dear Machine.

When Yesterday's sun
rises in blood
a cancer,
we'll all stand strong
and you
will be alone
as we float out on a sea
a hold of followed dreams
and you won't ever see
what we become.

And left in your home
you'll eat yourself
a stanza
of how it all fell
into
Hell
you should have let it be
and let us all be free
now we won't ever see
what you become.

We wanted Love.
We wanted Out.
And we wanted You
to prove
what you know
but you could never see
the honesty of dreams
so we'll just walk our own
Sweet Road.