Au premier regard
Une photo noir et blanc
Révélée d'une pellicule Kodak Ilford Agfa Fuji 50 asa
Qui flotte dans un bain d'arrêt entre alcalin et câlin.
Au deuxième regard
Un sourire mutin tatin
Mâtin lutin satin
Qui dévoile des fossettes sans retouches.
Au troisième regard
Un film ancien
Hitchkock, Preminguer
Une héroïne, une sainte
Jeanne d'Arc .
Au quatrième regard
Le désir d'en savoir plus
Sur cette Jean Seberg ressuscitée,
Reine de Saba virtuelle.
Regard sur le texte court et concis :
"Cherche homme vrai et honnête
A vingt kilomètres maximum."
Au sixième regard
Regard sur moi même dans le miroir
Vrai? Honnête?
En tout cas pas faux ni malhonnête.
Ni faux nez ni faux profil.
Et une interrogation.
Vrai et honnête égale nu et sincère ?
Au septième regard j'ai eu envie de vous dire
Que j'existais à 20 kilomètres de vous
Et je me suis présenté sur papuer glacé
Et vous m'avez dit tout simplement
A bientôt.
Deux petits mots si simples
Une préposition et un adverbe
Porteurs de tant de sens propres
et figurés.
Ainsi commence notre aventure
Et je nous souhaite bon vent
Mutin satin mâtin lutin tatin
Et des milliers d'autres regards
Nus et sincères
Ou pour utiliser votre syntaxe
Vrais et honnêtes.

A picture captures a moment,
Entrapping it for view.
If I reach into the frame
Clutch and claim,
Can I have that moment anew?

Mr. Lotto
Went to Kyoto
Clicked a Photo
Turned Right

Found a Sumo
Entered fight
Returned home
With a Prize

Until an old photo comes across your eyes, you will never cherish the little pieces of time that pass you by.

To experience is beauty, To live is just a waste.

My mind is full of feelings. My heart is full of feelings. There is no logic to me.

I am art. I was designed by an artist. I was first crafted in the womb. My thoughts are put on paper and become art too.

Life is art. We create moments and memories. Our art is often a photograph.

Feelings are art.

The way you decorate your home is art.

Singing the song you love is art.

We are all artists. After all, we were designed by an artist.

dig at your heart i find a photo
it was like a ghost coming from absent
talking in whisper, saying one word
making your heart refluxing with red
and your face changing its white

i feared i said that is your love
that you can become a knight
and changing your kind into wild
you can carry the weapon to fight
you can not stop until you see your love
safe and live in happy and great fare

you said with low sound
,''stupid that man is you
and your love making me as lion
facing the dangerous with open chest
fighting the enemies and chasing them at fast

because i find a fresh air touching my heart
when i collected your photo to my chest"

Scanning your photo, who you were
is my fantasy, there is no contact
with you in that flower field near Merano

You looked inquiringly at me
at that moment, in this photo
of my and your thoughts

since then timelessly
frozen on the edge
of a black eternity

Also scanning myself
in the mirror, I see who I seem
to be and not who I want to see

They are irrevocable facets
of my truth and my lies
in traces of my existence

It seems as if everyone has someone but me
All I have is my art
It get pretty lonely here
I can't fall asleep next to my art
I can't surprise my art with flowers
I can't confide in my art
It seems as if I'm the only one forgotten about
All I can do is feel
But I don't know if I want to feel anymore

Prose, a photo
Poetry, pencil sketch,
                                       in five lines.

We see not with eyes but heart
We hear not with ears but heart
We think not with mind but heart
                                                           ­   Helen Keller,
                                                                                      wise beyond sight.

And we feel not with heart but in the guts.