Amidst the Midnight Fog

I sat amidst the midnight fog,
I felt him kiss my face.
He crept through leaves & fallen logs,
leaving traces of his dewy embrace.

I sat amidst the midnight fog,
watching him ghost my world.
He stretched across the air with leisurely yawns,
his secrets he unfurled.

I sat amidst the midnight fog,
tasting his wintry perfume.
He set an icy prologue for
his friend, the waxing moon.

In Decision

Floating, sinking; embryonic.
Time in. Time out.
Time is frozen with me, yet
Time goes on without me.
Peace. Noise. Commotion & calm
In the placenta of my inner thoughts.
Is this the conscience?
Is this the soul?
I decide, I could die here.
Instead, I am reborn.


C.Marie

Hesitation Without a Pause

splotches of light;

floating

orbs of color

the way flash photography leaves eyes

after a picture snapped indoors.

these flickering spots;

fleeting

blinking greens & purples

begin to appear without instigation,

an effect without a cause in daily vision.

brief spheres of ideas manifested;

burst

bubbles of alternate schemes

a hesitation of thought to ponder

possibilities without a pause to wonder.

c.marie

Sunken Treasure

If my body were a ship
wrecked deep beneath the sea
          sunken by lost faith & heartbreak
I could see you swimming

          with the fish

          gliding effortlessly

through the cage of my algae draped ribs
          weathered by aquatic storms
          splintered & saturated
          soaked in sodium
as the waters of time
sop the splinters of adventure
          dreams
          hope
          love
          desire
          freedom
invested in every beam.

Each lapping tide bears new salt
on old wounds,
new tears in old seams;
          sails suspended in animation
          made to look as if consumed
          by a sub-aqueous wind.

The Troubadour: A Place for Craftmanship & Poetry

1:30 AM. 2/10/11. Freshly home from The Troubadour in WeHo. In hand: Tina Dico's hand-written (napkin) setlist. Out of all the music performances I've seen (half of which I don't even have photos from) this was the BEST one- the most emotionally moving, tangibly magical music performance yet.

I got lost (twice) on the way there. On the verge of an anxiety freak-out I was lost in the middle of West Hollywood & bothered with the urge to head home. But instead, I persevered for 45 minutes taking solace in the realization that sometimes getting lost is the best part of a journey (suffice it to say that "getting lost" was enough of a sign for me to find this damn venue given that it's the premise of a Tina Dico song). I was last in line to enter, but still managed to score a spot leaning against an amplifier in front of the stage. However, when I was awaiting the couple in front of me to walk through the venue doors so that I could proceed, a glorious moment took place.

I heard the point of a pair of heels on the vintage sidewalk first before turning around, just thankful that I wasn't THE last person to arrive in line. The doorman asked for the newcomers tickets. I'm certain my lungs forgot to breathe for a split second upon hearing a delicately accented & modest reply of, "I'm with the band". I slowly pivoted (my eyes moved faster than my body) and I glanced at the newcomers behind me, immediately freezing. In an awkward stance with my mouth agape (as if it were trying to speak, but incapable of producing sound), I was gawking & literally speechless. Tina Dico herself had just daintily sauntered up behind me on the sidewalk appearing to have just arrived to the venue from a different [fancier] location. She looked me in the eyes, tilted her head with a grin & slowed in stride, no doubt wondering if whether I would ask for a picture or an autograph. When my mouth still failed to emit my voice, she continued to walk through the door; I entered right after... moving, but still slightly dumbfounded.

Typically, I'm not one to stand motionless in awe of a musician who inspires me when the brief opportunity for conversation arises (or at least a "Thank you for creating the soundtrack of my soul." & a handshake on my part). But in the case of Tina Dico, awe indeed overwhelmed. There I stood, enchanted in the presence of a humble, yet renowned, musician who I've wanted to see live for years. An artist who can translate her feelings into lyrics with beautiful brevity, clever references, & simple-but-intricate guitar melodies, she could leave a listener hypnotized. Drawing inspiration from anything between phobias and longing, Tina Dico is flawless in her musical transcendence attributed with a milky-smooth voice.

The first opener, the witty Helgi Jonsson, is an artist I was looking forward to seeing independent of Sigur Ros. Amazing performance with instruments ranging from guitar, to keyboard, to trombone. Helgi also offers his instrumental talent & disarming harmonies to quite a few Tina Dico tracks (another aspect of this show I was eagerly anticipating!). He broke the ice, so-to-speak, with a story of his first ever shoe-shining experience provided by LAX; he narrated in the tone reminiscent of a boy who's just discovered how big ants look under a magnifying glass before they catch fire. Helgi definitely entertains from start to finish and in between the wild tuning of each songs instrument. He may seem impish, but man can the natives of Iceland belt out a song!

The second opener, Lauren O'Conner, is the personification of "spunk"; short in stature with powerful pipes. Another entertainer, with or without a guitar in hand, that will leave anyone rocking their shoulders & stomping their feet! Great, great, lyrics, powerful presentation, & more vulnerable in her music than her personality will allow in conversation. Brandi Carlile-esque strumming style, Ani Difranco-ish voice, Zack Galifianakis-y humor & demeanor. Overall, she'll blow your mind & leave you thanking her for it.

Around 10:30 or so, Tina Dico floated down the stairs that led from the musicians lounge to the stage, welcomed by fervent applause & cheering. She was nymph-like, but majestic in her movements. She waltzed whimsically around the stage with her guitars, hugging them & singing with them; her body moved fluidly. Her limbs nimbly rose & sank & dipped as a marionette would were it activated by music. Guided by invisible strings of dreamy, & sometimes haunting, lyrics she tip-toed & twirled & bowed & stomped to all eighteen songs she played (including the encore tracks). The show was surreal. It was almost an out-of-body experience; OR such a convergence of internal energy that every sense was on a heightened plane of function. Either way: It. Was. Awesome.

All of it- getting lost, almost running out of gas, coincidentally entering the venue at the same time as the headlining artist, the people, the vibe of The Troubador itself... Awe-some.

"Count To Ten"... video starts unsteady but stabilizes:


"Copenhagen"... featured on Tina Dico's tour tumblr! ( http://tinadico.tumblr.com/ )

Summer on My Mind

Summer is what life should be like- alive and hot and spontaneous and always abuzz (like the cicadas in the peach trees) sticky with midnight sprints, and glowing.

Life should glow, fecund with the energy we share with one another; we should all glow... all little fireflies discovering how to glow through our hot, sticky lives.

Tea Leaves

7:43 on a Wednesday eve & the Santa Ana's chill is biting so hard I've gone shaky at my skinned knees. So I hobble home to my bed instead of meandering through last nights skewed time line in my head so's not escalate the ache in my tightened chest, the throbbing in my swollen ankle, my grated palm, my jarred chin; oh where would I begin to recount & attest? No. For now, rest. Sip some chamomile & breathe in the steam, let it mellow my thoughts & steep them for my dreams when subconscious is unhinged. Tonight, let me forget feeling frayed fingering fickle fuzzies found 'round the fringes of my mind, like pinching at some kind of puff from a dandelion mane. The picking, the pulling, the grabbing & nabbing; the repetition is enough to steer me insane.


c.marie

I Hear a Hoo

It's most likely evident
that I have trouble sleeping
& not that it's relevant
but I've held a secret merit in keeping
a journal;
a mirror of the internal
declaration of independence
out of the quiet
via emotional transcendence
despite a mental corset.
It's not really that hard to see,
I'm losing my mind to Me.


c.marie

By Your Spine

Well... You looked at me
suggestively
when you were reciting your favorite lines
from that book you let me borrow
about
embracing the joys & sorrow
of getting to know your own mind...

Well... I wanted so desperately
to be
pressed upon those pages
then perhaps you would have been able
to read me, too
& you would have known that I was
this close
to kissing you to the ground
& that I longed to be bound by your spine...

But... Then the stupid doorbell rang
like some
clincher-cliche from a bad movie
only, more risque
but all you could say was
"Well, that's convenient."
& you pretended not to mean it
speaking with a smile that couldn't
beguile the truth that
you were shy & that's okay,
'cause so was I...

Well... In that forever-second you looked
into me,
deep
past yours or my uncertainty
in a brief moment of honesty
& I think we both forgot to breathe
a little
still high on two bottles of wine...

Well... Until the doorbell rang again
& it was then when you smirked with
smug lips as you rose to your feet
& I was dry for quick quips
before you even popped up from the floor
by your slender hips
to walk to the door with ease & charm
leaving me lying enchanted & disarmed
& you unlocked the bolted barrier
looking over your shoulder
at me, grounded behind...


c.marie

Glow

She's been visiting me in my dreams
from which i wish not to wake.

She's a figure for which i would learn
to use an abacus to figure out.

She's the smoke
of which i'd breathe a forever drag.

She's the trickling sand in the hourglass
& i'm upside down cupping the flow.

She is the firefly
& i am the glow.


c.marie

Remind Me...

It is painstakingly evident when I miss you. It is painstaking, when you are not around me; when we are not laughing ridiculously, making stupid things funny, appreciating the same beautiful thing in different ways, sharing our ideas & beliefs & wonders & endless questions & curiosities...

There are moments; when I laugh or tilt my head to my shoulder in order to see something more closely, in an attempt for some perspective, those moments when reality & imagination merge to create an incredible vision only you would understand or perhaps think of yourself... those moments are beautiful & cursed, for I look over in your direction with a dolphin smile to share... but you're not really there. All there is, is empty air to fill my limp lungs to fuel my stuttered heart, when you're not here.

But you feel it. Me. My thoughts of you... & immediately I am reminded that our minds are so synchronized, so parallel, when I see your name on my 2 inch screen after a message-ring from my pocket; I can't help but look over, & smile at the empty air where I know you know I am looking for you.

You remind me, that we were made for greatness together.

Mantra

Board to the beach...

Gotta sit & rethink, on the edge of my seat, on my own personal retreat. Gotta try to defeat these, inconsistencies takin' rise to optimize, obstacles as far as my eyes can see.

So, in the sand I sit, & I breathe, & I look & try to see, & I remember... Me.


c.marie

Face the Music

The face of the clock,
how he keeps a watch
on everything we do...

But a clock chimes death,
when time to face the music
at the cuckoo bird's cuckoo.


c.marie

Backfire

Her hand didn't move in mine... Not the way I imagined it would. My fingers traced her shape: arm & wrist & lines & palm & fingers; the way they would have on a map, linking unexplored locations together in a flesh-memory. Her skin was warm milk & I wanted to drink her in until I fell asleep. Every time she met her mouth with mine, time seemed to stand still & fast-forward simultaneously. So frozen with anticipation, ecstasy; my skin was raised in goosebumps. Every follicle of hair on my body had morphed into an atomic soldier rooted so deeply to my nerves, each stood fixed at attention, shocked by the electricity of her touch. I was the hammer & she was the trigger. I was cocked, waiting for the firing of the gun of possibilities. But she couldn't pull the trigger. She just let her finger rest there, taught with silent anxiety & secret fear, though her eyes screamed with provocation... as if to test how much pressure she could squeeze the trigger with before the gun went off.

She was an illusion that made my eyes water. I had thought so much, at how & when & where, to have this time with her that I didn't realize how quickly it would go... & all I wanted was more.

More time. More time to show this cynic of love, this non-believer, that such a thing really does exist; that it's not just a verb. More time to reveal that a word hasn't yet been invented for the feeling. More time to demonstrate that the placebo fillers she'd been shoveling into the cave of her calloused heart would weigh her down like mud & rust her armor to her skin.

But each time I opened my eyes, after each kiss, the first sight was her pair of swampy green eyes... & it was I who was stuck in the mud.

c.marie

Tangible Imaginary

Peanuts & pretzels fill my nose with their salty scents, helping me imagine this flight is a carnival... or circus...

All the animals & performers perched in seats leathered with a weathered blue color reminiscent of your father's old suit. You know the suit. The one that seemed so perfectly content to hang lifeless in the closet, next to the colony of unused ties; the suit that was only worn for court appearances or office Christmas parties.

So here we are, holding a carnival court in the sky... Idly standing-by, waiting to return to each of our natural habitats; to return to each of our carefully executed acrobatics of juggling: work. school. love. life. ridiculous thoughts. desires.

Each of us, someone else's temporary, tangible imaginary friend.

c.marie