Patti Smith

"I don't consider writing a quiet, closet act.
I consider it a real physical act.
When I'm home writing on the typewriter, I go crazy.
I move like a monkey.
I've wet myself, I've come in my pants writing."                 --Patti Smith

Jane Birkin

Vintage style

Raw

A lonely handshake,

blurred dance and fuzzy embrace.

Hearts yearning.

Heads turmoil.

Souls destruction.

In beds of dying embers 

my heart lies bleeding.

I wait.

I wait.

A lost connection,

of thought, of hope,

of lucid transparency.

Seeing me clearly,

and wanting me as I am.

With clear headed ease you succome to me,

becoming the piece I had lost.

Two hearts bleeding and burning as one.

With certainty and conviction.

You trust in my eyes.

I will not deceive you.

I will not disservice you.

I wait.

I wait.

For a stuck still moment.

Inhibitions take flight, numbed senses finally tingle in arousement.

Holy Mother!

Christ!The Bones, The Blood!

True ecstasy.

Total combustion.

Apocalyptic hemerage.

Fatal kiss.

I wait.

I wait.

Blossom and Blue

The blossoming sweetness of stars and sky

and all the rest

falls in front of the hillside before us like a basket.

and turns the abyss below to blossom and blue.

                     -section of Mystic

Arthur Rimbaud