electric dreams… electric reality…

i will not hold you by restraining hands
nor yet by tears that silently accuse.
you shall be free—like waters on the strands
that come, and go, and tarry, as they choose.
i will not speak of days sweet to remember,
of lanes we trod through april sun and shower,
of twilight trysts through early-starred november,
prolonged each twilight by an evening hour—no, not a word to hint of that or this,
lest speaking so, your going i impede.
i will resign myself to all that is—like unto sands when cooling waves recede.
o while the strength of seeing love undone
still stands by me, i pray you, love, be gone.

                                          - trinidad l. tarrosa-subido

a good cup of coffee is always a welcome indulgence after hours of discussing the translation theories of arthur schopenhauer, johann wolfgang von goethe, matthew arnold, and walter benjamin…

the night was washed with pale red… the mall was still bustling with life… the air was filled with misadventures of friends who seem not to age…

amid the laughter and billows… a certain truth was made known…

the truth sets you free… as the old adage say…

but as it liberates you… the truth severs your heart… stabs your brain… cleaves your limbs from your body…

hangs your head… and advertise…

a soul for sale or rent…

it begins to drizzle… an earthy scent arises… lightning flashes through the sky…