Thursday, 17 March 2011

ma jor qui

palma/ the singing belly vs the laughing heart. /santanyi - mondrago/ homes, heavens, mirrored images, rebirth, to roll out on a dragon's tongue made of stone/andratx - sa coma/ the enormous transcendence of a person daring enough to withdraw from it's own creation only to take part in another's /deiĆ / hymns to jesus sung by donkeys on twisted sugar tops of adoration/fornalutx/ an orange orchard for every gravestone/es capdela – calvia/ people springing out of and overgrowing their prophecies, purity as an egg on a dried-out river bank, or a ball of mud trickling down a stream of painted diamonds/

banyalbufar – sa calobra/ signs pointing to shangri-las eaten by thick layers of fog, time gnawing away at the weathered rocks leaving a garden/formentor/ cliffs orchestrated by goats, beaches left beautiful by the absence of sun-worshippers/magalluf – portals nous/ breathe out and disappear, or reappear, in the image of me riding an electrical bull that is whipped by a sleepwalking audience, car keys rattling as they walk away unecstatically into the night, missing their boats and yachts by just a step, washing up on the before empty beaches smiling, the next day/

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