First week in Montalvo

There is magic power pass midnight.

Muse comes in contact when liver goes into detox.

My first week in Montalvo Arts Center:

mountains

Saratoga

California.

Music

Food

global initiatives

indefinable.

Under the 4 windows

I read ink paintings,

observe polarities,

fight for a reason to be me.

Wings flung open late at night,

resistance dissolved.

Tomorrow, we will battle again.

Eden and I had a conversation on the difficulty times in our 30s.

Out of the presumptuous, not yet reclaim oneself,

I too feel like a snake having a hard time shedding her old skin.

Identity butchers the spirit.

We stayed late and danced.

Dream Catcher

White dream,

leading from the silver thread,

fell out of the dream catcher,

on blue,

on grey,

on fainted reflection.

Travelling in quirky entanglement,

swirled towards opposite direction from the last turn,

CH 27 stitches,

then 5.3.

Melody sounded like breath,

like minty smile,

like lips in water,

unraveled through the dream catcher,

over flew as introverted bubbles.

It was a pleasant dream,

in a moment seeking mutual greetings.

We were there,

listening to the shadow who spoke to the form.

Spilling,

cascading,

and flowing again.

Inspired by Renée Azenaro's sculpture at create/re/create, an exhibition in den contemporary, West Hollywood, CA.