THOUGHTS
To paint
Is to release
The fragrance
Of one’s passage
On earth
Place a frame over anything, and there is a mind
squaring the earth
A photograph dies
If it moves only the senses
And lives
If it opens doors
To the unknown
In gravity, the horizontal plane
In no-gravity, the vertical plane
At this intersection, we live
Naked is the body
Clothed is the mind
Laughter opens heart
Seriousness closes mind
Laughter erupts when the smallness
Of mind is exposed
This body-earth
Walks
Upon itself
Seen from the moon, all quarrels are a waste of time.
Suicide
Is to go to war
Over this earth
That we are
When I am
This earth
All that remains
Is dancing
And singing
If my mind would move like this earth
It would be quiet
When I am this earth
All faces
Are my face
Still is the mind
That does not know
Still is the body
That does not belong to anyone
What is
Behind sadness ?
Greed of wanting more
What is left
Except flying
Outside the gravity
Ofthis small mind ?
If this body-mind
Is a mountain
How will it be touched
By the winds of change?
Belief is a secure way
To hide all that is unpredictable
No
Is the horizontal gravity of this mind
Yes
Is the vertical freedom of this moment
like a color
Humans are mysterious
Unless someone
Has found out
What blue red and yellow
Are
When one is
Allboundariesvanish
AndI am nowhere to be found
Photographs
Are silent gaps
Into the freedom
Of the unknown
A photograph
May bring silence
The rest
Is superfluous
Can I unlearn
and listen to a photograph
Like the wind
In the pine trees ?
If the clouds
Would be blue
Where would be the problems?
It is no surprise to see the world as it was
How can I see it as it is?
This body-mind is a big pipe
How to make it a flute?
When the moon
And the grass
See through me
How can I not
Be happy then?
Lift anything
And you’ll bring light
Where there was
Darkness
We would not know
Freedom
If it were not for
Fences
And prisons
In the art of doing nothing
Is born
The art of doing things for nothing
Humans are
Vertical
Hyphens
Between
Earth and
Sky
I can either
Look
Through this body’s eyes
Or through the Earth’s eyes
The choice is open
What to say
To this ignorant mind
Who thinks it masters
Language
And therefore masters
The earth?
Nowhere to be seen
Is the object
Of my desires
For it will
Always change
If by chance
You encounter God
Give yourself
A handshake
In silence
Find the words
Beyond thoughts
In silence
I cannot
Not be
It is the easiest
Thing to say
That things
Are the way they are
But it is the hardest thing
To remember
Be a tree for others
For it will tell them
That nothing is needed
Apart from Being
Walking on one’s hands
Would be a way
To see reality as it is
For everything
Would be fresh
And thinking
Would cease to be
When the nature of things
Truly appears
All becomes so lively
That even names
Disappear
When is a painting or a photograph
A mirror
Into which
I disappear?
The hills and valleys
Of the earth
Are the belly and legs
Of this body
Humor
Is the collision between
Life
And the plans made
By my mind
I am
The ear eye
Mouth nose
And skin
Of the earth
When
Reason derails
All
Appear
Alive
Feeling the body
Feeling the earth
I am not thinking
Therefore I am
Body is light
Light is color
No origin no aim
Just travelling
Just being
when things do not fit
the boxes of my mind…
laughter explodes
and life comes in
Humor is seeing that making sense
Belongs to the flowers and the trees
I walk this earth
Thinking
That the landscape
Is outside of this body
As if my parents
Were not inside me…
Landscape is a ground to perceive that
In reality
All things are related
By invisible threads
Whatever I say
Whatever I do
This infinite landscape
Is doing it
It’s miraculous that
Although living in my mind
I still exist
Inner landscape
Outer landscape
Where do they begin?
All is the landscape
Even that small mind
Of mine
This body
Is always in flight
Living and dying
Every moment
I say, “ I have not seen anything like that.”
But actually, every second,
I have never seen anything like that
Anything
That makes us
Question
What we think
Is serving
Our intelligence
Nonsense is
As necessary
As Chantilly
On a cake
To paint a body
Is to see it afresh
With a sculptor’s eye
Why would anyone
Desire or fear
A stone statue?
Man is at the intersection
Of a dilemma
Choosing either the
No
Of horizontal
Time and space
Or the vertical
Yes
Of this very moment
To be
Is to be naked
No longer separated
From anything
In the world
Our simple
Bare being
Is as unavoidable
As this present
Moment
A bare body
Is simply this:
This simple
Moment
Infinitely present
It is true
That waking up
happens
After sleep
But who says
That I am not sleeping
When awake?
A painted body lays open
The flowering of something
Unnamable
In the space
Of an “if”
There is no room
For being
A train
Of thoughts
Does not have
Windows
From which to enjoy
The countryside
If there was only one meaning for each word
We would have stopped
All wars
A cloud
Embodies
The nature
Of this life:
Both present
And already
Gone
A brain is like
A funnel
It narrows
The vastness
Poured into it
to live
as if the scent of roses
matters
is one of
grateful thanks
this planet
can hear
Laughter
Is the sound
Of mind dropping
On the floor
Laughter
Makes itself
Precious
For it offers
Nothing
And in nothing
Is everything
Cats and dogs
Do not need laughter
For they do not
Take themselves
So seriously
“you “ only
exist
if there is
a “me”
what if
These hills and rivers
were me?
Laughter breaks up
The glue attaching me
To all things
Order is like uncombed hair
It confuses
Natural disorder
The body flying
Is only a dream
For those who
Who do not see
That it flies
All the time
Jump into the unfamiliar
Until you can hardly breathe
For it will suffocate
You with beauty
Balloons, like thoughts, are fun
To watch
Unstable
Limited
And they tend to deflate
Swiftly
Hear the sound
Of a word
And not
Its meaning
Peel off
Meaning
From the sight
Of this body
Be this heart
And you will see
That colors
Are deeper
Than you knew
Knowledge is just gossip
Photographing
The incongruous
I give back
To the earth
What it gives
Perpetually
Point
At anything
It will warm you
With your
Own blood
Anywhere
In the world
Walk
As if you were
Naked
Then what would you
Not let go of ?
If you want
to be
Become a color
Naked
Walking
Without
The clothes of beliefs
One enters
The desert
Of the self
It is clear
That little
Is clear
As long as
I think about
It
In one word
Ten thousand
Meanings
Whom to hear?
Drunk with the earth
Luminous
We turn
Like stars
Landing flat
In the agony of time
The birds
And the clouds
Call me
So that I see
The world
From their point of view
Working with silence
Why would I need narratives?
.
In action, noise
In being, silence
In silence
Trees, stars,
And bodies
All melt
Into one big
Jelly bean
There are two ways
To see the stars:
Look up
Or look inside yourself
It is well known
That 2+2 =4
It is less well known
That it is a perfect
Accident
Walls
Do not show
Their ears
Until someone
Hears them
Painting a body
Suspends the naming of its parts
And it becomes
Again
A spread of light
Flickering
In the landscape
Painted bodies
How can I look
At anyone
In terms
Of skin
Color ?
Painted body
Or innermost
Flowering ?
Color is my “black and white”
With colors
The body becomes alien
Any mound or hollow
Becomes a plastic sculpture
Hard to name
Or desire
Without words
I see anew
Experience has replaced thought
And the body again
Is flowers in a field
If wanting more
Than this moment
Is Hell
Then this moment
Must be Heaven
Color and light
Are the fabric
Of this Body-Earth
And
The entire universe
The universe
Always says “yes”
“No “ belongs to
This small mind
Each word
Is like
A knife
Peeling off
Flat images
From reality
Light is blind
For it moves
Everywhere
Light is blind
For not a single body
Carries it
Light is blind
For it travels
In darkness
When I know
I am a stone
When I don’t know
I become water
There are
Many things
I do not know
But is there
One thing
I truly
Know?
Belief is the king
Of my fiefdom
The more I believe
The more it shrinks
Mind is a circus clown
Who believes
He is a banker
A photograph
Is a trace of light
Fast food
For the poor
Don’t watch what people
Say
For it may be
The only
Unimportant
Thing
They do
“It’s all or nothing”
but why the alternative?
Are not they
Equivalent?
This body-mind
Is Light
Thrown in
All directions.
Painted colors
Are a trace of
Our helpless
Flower nature
When one
Is absent
Then one
Is
When the story
Disappears
The world
Appears
To paint
Is to be
The mystery
Of light
As matter
To paint is akin to bringing musicians in
So folks can come and dance
The tyranny
Of meaningfulness…
Do stars and clouds
Move meaningfully?
To paint
Is my mind‘s job
Continuously, it paints “reality”
To paint
Is to dream
Within
The dream
Of my senses
To rediscover
The musicality
Of the body
I use paint
In the light
Of the moment
There is darkness
The not-knowing
That lies ahead
Everything is painting:
This whole fiction
I call reality
This whole universe
Is painted
In my mind
Ideas are
Invisible stones
Being the landscape
Is to catch our minds
By surprise
What if there were
No selves that taint
The universe
With the color
Of its own glasses?
To paint
is to open one’s heart
For what could remain
Closed
While I am not thinking?
I shoot ”in nature”
Enjoying
The surprise of infinite encounters:
A shadow, rain, cloud, or light
Meeting as fortuitously
As several arrows in mid-air
What are we but light?
Paint on a body
Takes away
Habitual narratives
And creates a distance
While cooling the
Senses…
Freshness, life,
Or poetry
Are then allowed
To come into play
Every moment
Is always
The last supper
To paint is
To become
Other
All people and things
Around us
the earth
Is our flesh and bones
And the sky
Our mind
Can a photograph
Bring me
To a place
Beyond reason?
Color is freedom
Flowering within
This body
The less identifiable a work
The more questions it may raise
What else
But humor
Can undermine
The constant chatter
Of my mind?
Having
Has acquired
The license
To steal
Being
Strength
Is to walk
In the shadow
Of oneself
Strength
Is not believing
My mind
If I look attentively
At the clouds
I should learn everything
About myself
To paint a body
Is to give birth
to give birth
Is to realize
that I no longer am
In place of saying, “I am,”
I should say:
“I Human”
“I sea”
“I cloud”
Depending on where
My attention is
Through the
Theatrical
Excess of
Color
These age old
Questions:
What is it ?
What is this body-mind?
Death
Is this second
Made a bit longer
My brain is as stretched as a rectangle
to better play the game of ideas
To see form as form
Without any label
Is as vital
As not confusing water
With wine
My fears are proportional to the illusion
That I know anything
How can I see the body’s real colors
Without my mind’s coloring
I watch the stars
Watching me
The desert is
The very nature
Of our mind
Before it sticks
To pots
Cars
Fame and fortune
To paint
An illusion
Is both to hide it
And make it
Visible
Matter
Is a less-condensed
Version
Of thought
Every second
Descend
Into this body
As if it were
A dwelling
In wonderland
Acceptance
Is the other side
Of not knowing
Words
Do not unveil
A mystery
They hide it
This body
Standing up
I
Is perhaps
The only ideogram
Of the English language
The horizon is
Close to the nature
Of our mind:
The more we try
To get it
The more
It recedes in the distance
Questions
Are close to being
For they give insight
Into
The unknowable
Pain is condensed thought
Thoughts
Like clouds
Move away
From were
We are
Why do I paint or photograph
Except to become the light ?