Todas as Coisas que São Doces
And now-in the casa of my lover-as he plays lovely music in his lovely way.
You can´t imagine how it sounds- he sounds like he´s from another level of being-his dual melodies and the doce pauses and dying of the notes-their quiet and sometimes not- sometimes sudden births and their lives and their sweet-sweet deaths-this is almost too much-his playing is so sweet- low and lingering. And I can still hear the dead notes because they die so slowly they seem to become ghosts that join you in your body-
-and the smell of his marijuana lingers and is so fine and all this as he plays and plays so low and so very lovely. Like a fucking fairytale.
Strangely though-there's a little shadow behind my ears as I sit here with his music and marijuana passing over me-unclear at first for my own safety..but..
it's the thought of a soft soft woman (who is she? )-and me-and I would be so skinny and rangy-would be the Marcelo of the relationship
Just a little shadow behind my ears..
because oh-you can hear the sound of his hand passing down the neck of the guitar..
Here for me are his slow slow notes and sensual and thoughtful and improvised songs- and him just looking down at his hands which are hard and soft only a little feminine -and he is so relaxed with his instrument and just sitting in his wooden chair in his small casa in the middle of the Brasilian rainforest as his young lover looks on and writes curiously in her notbook.
oh. Oh and you can hear the sound of his hand passing down the neck of the guitar..
And she wonders if he is seranading her-because there is only her and him and the sweet soft music of the play of his melodies and his fingers on the strings and his lips on the harmonica and all of him in the music he makes- his clothes right out of a ´how to be a bohemian´manual.
-brown shorts..beige-y-dirt-like shorts down to his kees-ish length and his yellow tee of cooled corn or really more like squash with black on the neck and a design that is hidden behind his guitar and oh his melody and chords that are seperated because he is that talented-makes me want to dance for him for him. Just for him...a leeway into our ritual sleepless sleep together.
God it´s so sweet-muitos doce parra ficar juntos aqui com ele- to be here with him. So sweet that everything has that feeling of ´out of a book´. His legs (actually, his body is lovely, when its covered in clothes like what he has on-lovely despite it's ranginess-despite it's age-) are crossed no-oh god is this really me?
In the Brasilian rainforest relaxed and happy and small and full in the casa of my lover who is playing lowly and sweetly for me? Is it? This little and too young 18 year old in blue smart shorts and light cotton burgandy top- and he with his model like skinny face with shadows and secret places as bugs-formigas (ants which have stinging bites) crawl around me in my relaxed pose leaning against the blanket I brought- (E que e? Uma cobertor?-so I can sleep tonight...-why cant you sleep-..no se porque..-how did you go 2 nights without sleep?-no se-it was okay?-sim..- how? Mixed English and Portugese soup of a conversation) and a beautiful green grilho-grasshoper moves not at all and just looks at me and then moves so so slowly and it looks like its cut out of construction paper its so simple as it turns around to fly off to is mate..and me to mine.
Meu Mineira...meu deus.
And it´s perfect in a way that is slow and sweet and possible to savor at the strangest moments-like when I´m washing my hands in a bathroom that is filled with spiders and their webs and the smell of old piss..so different from the lições da vida which are hard like dirty concrete walls on cold winter days-so little lessons-just being silent will cause me to realize how many many things will be you´re life teacher from moment to moment-and even listening to my body will tell me things I wish I had listened into so long ago. Tudo bem-I´m living each hard and fine lesson I learn from whatever-from the cuts on my legs- learning the guitar- trail blazing sessions and eating fruit that is too acidic.. It´s amazing, these hard and fine lessons..so hard and completely fine that I wish I would be me here in the Brasilian rainforest for another year.
You can´t imagine how it sounds- he sounds like he´s from another level of being-his dual melodies and the doce pauses and dying of the notes-their quiet and sometimes not- sometimes sudden births and their lives and their sweet-sweet deaths-this is almost too much-his playing is so sweet- low and lingering. And I can still hear the dead notes because they die so slowly they seem to become ghosts that join you in your body-
-and the smell of his marijuana lingers and is so fine and all this as he plays and plays so low and so very lovely. Like a fucking fairytale.
Strangely though-there's a little shadow behind my ears as I sit here with his music and marijuana passing over me-unclear at first for my own safety..but..
it's the thought of a soft soft woman (who is she? )-and me-and I would be so skinny and rangy-would be the Marcelo of the relationship
Just a little shadow behind my ears..
because oh-you can hear the sound of his hand passing down the neck of the guitar..
Here for me are his slow slow notes and sensual and thoughtful and improvised songs- and him just looking down at his hands which are hard and soft only a little feminine -and he is so relaxed with his instrument and just sitting in his wooden chair in his small casa in the middle of the Brasilian rainforest as his young lover looks on and writes curiously in her notbook.
oh. Oh and you can hear the sound of his hand passing down the neck of the guitar..
And she wonders if he is seranading her-because there is only her and him and the sweet soft music of the play of his melodies and his fingers on the strings and his lips on the harmonica and all of him in the music he makes- his clothes right out of a ´how to be a bohemian´manual.
-brown shorts..beige-y-dirt-like shorts down to his kees-ish length and his yellow tee of cooled corn or really more like squash with black on the neck and a design that is hidden behind his guitar and oh his melody and chords that are seperated because he is that talented-makes me want to dance for him for him. Just for him...a leeway into our ritual sleepless sleep together.
God it´s so sweet-muitos doce parra ficar juntos aqui com ele- to be here with him. So sweet that everything has that feeling of ´out of a book´. His legs (actually, his body is lovely, when its covered in clothes like what he has on-lovely despite it's ranginess-despite it's age-) are crossed no-oh god is this really me?
In the Brasilian rainforest relaxed and happy and small and full in the casa of my lover who is playing lowly and sweetly for me? Is it? This little and too young 18 year old in blue smart shorts and light cotton burgandy top- and he with his model like skinny face with shadows and secret places as bugs-formigas (ants which have stinging bites) crawl around me in my relaxed pose leaning against the blanket I brought- (E que e? Uma cobertor?-so I can sleep tonight...-why cant you sleep-..no se porque..-how did you go 2 nights without sleep?-no se-it was okay?-sim..- how? Mixed English and Portugese soup of a conversation) and a beautiful green grilho-grasshoper moves not at all and just looks at me and then moves so so slowly and it looks like its cut out of construction paper its so simple as it turns around to fly off to is mate..and me to mine.
Meu Mineira...meu deus.
And it´s perfect in a way that is slow and sweet and possible to savor at the strangest moments-like when I´m washing my hands in a bathroom that is filled with spiders and their webs and the smell of old piss..so different from the lições da vida which are hard like dirty concrete walls on cold winter days-so little lessons-just being silent will cause me to realize how many many things will be you´re life teacher from moment to moment-and even listening to my body will tell me things I wish I had listened into so long ago. Tudo bem-I´m living each hard and fine lesson I learn from whatever-from the cuts on my legs- learning the guitar- trail blazing sessions and eating fruit that is too acidic.. It´s amazing, these hard and fine lessons..so hard and completely fine that I wish I would be me here in the Brasilian rainforest for another year.
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