Items by Levari

The Night Book

  • 3/06

    Posted: May 7, 2008, 4:07 am by Levari
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    3/06, originally uploaded by levari.

  • When My Desk Got Away From Me...

    Posted: May 5, 2008, 4:43 am by Levari
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    When My Desk Got Away From Me..., originally uploaded by levari.

  • Brattleboro Exchange

    Posted: May 1, 2008, 4:44 am by Levari
    You had dreams
    but they slipped away
    so quietly
    that we failed to notice
    until we had stacked
    them up in boxes.

    Standing now,
    years later,
    along these tracks,
    sun beaming down,
    through the thin, blue air,

    black birds overhead,
    two of them,
    slicing south
    through the
    north wind,

    then landing on the
    flashing crossing light
    to pick and clean each other's
    wings.

    The train pulls in.
    The birds scatter.
    I board for you
    to take us further.

    Sitting with my back facing front,
    wheels churning,

    rust stained snow,

    past lakes outlined in white,
    past abandoned houses,
    and houses that should be,
    and all New England's playgrounds
    buried in the ancient ice;

    where have you been,
    where once was your home?

    What am I looking for?

    Where you have been,
    where once was your home.

    Always following your tracks,
    that is all I ever did,

    Waiting for our eyes
    to whisper to me:

    where you have gone,
    where once was our home?

    A long time ago

    we,

    the deepest sleep beneath,
    this always onwards,
    though we only ever
    sit facing backwards,
    always will be my way home,
    you.

    ~Burlington, VM to Amherst, MA - 2/96
  • Portrait of My Father - 3/08

    Posted: April 29, 2008, 3:56 am by Levari
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    Portrait of My Father - 3/08, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Fate

    Posted: April 26, 2008, 5:24 am by Levari
    "When the Gods wish to punish you, they answer your prayers..."

    ~African Proverb née Isak Dineson (attributed)
  • San Gabriel Foothills - January, 2004

    Posted: April 25, 2008, 2:44 pm by Levari
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    San Gabriel Foothills - January, 2004, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Matisse - The Piano Lesson

    Posted: April 23, 2008, 1:53 am by Levari
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    Matisse - The Piano Lesson, originally uploaded by levari.

    My favorite painting...ever.

  • The Wind Storm - 3/08

    Posted: April 22, 2008, 4:23 am by Levari
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    The Wind Storm - 3/08, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Poet Laureate of The Blogosphere 2008

    Posted: April 21, 2008, 6:04 pm by Levari
    The good people over at Blogging Poet were kind enough to nominate me for the Poet Laureate of the Internet award they give out every year. I'm very honored, however I can only say this:

    PLEASE DON'T VOTE FOR ME.

    There are so many other poets, men and women who live, die and eat poetry every day as teachers, as writers, as readers and they are far more deserving of this award then I could ever be. The past winners, Ron Silliman, Jilly Dybka and Amy King are poets in the finest and realest sense of the word who have devoted their life to the art and the craft of poetry, and all that this devotion means. They live it every day.

    Fortunately, I do many, many things for work and pleasure, and I've been able to make a living as a film writer for the last couple years. I can't tell you how grateful I am that I have been lucky enough to do this. When I was younger, no, but as I get older I see how truly rare it is to be able to work in a craft whose possibilities, given the right circumstances, are endless. Film is, in many ways, the true love of my life. Perhaps many movies now are not what I wish them to be, but as long as the possibility exists for me to help in creating the ones I've dreamed since I was a child - sound, vision, drama, comedy, and, yes, poetry - no matter what form the movie may take, then I'm in as long as someone will keep me around.

    In any case, the films that I write, the photographs I take, the poems that I scribble down here are merely pieces of a whole. This place is my living notebook, not dedicated to any one art or craft, but whatever is available to me in the moment, like a kid who scribbles in his journal late at night when he's supposed to be sleeping. That's all this is and all, really, I've ever been, that kid, flashlight on, scribbling away beneath his covers because he can't sleep.

    Hopefully the desire to share, to communicate in these ways through this medium for all to visit or discard as they see fit, keeps me honest, real and centered so I never lose sight of why I wanted to be an artist to begin with.

    So, please, vote for one of the other candidates, they are fine poets and far more deserving of this award.

    If you're interested you can check them out here:

    bloggingpoet.squarespace.com/bloggingpoetcom/ category/poet-laureate-of-the-blogosphere

    I'd post as a hyperlink, but I don't even know how to post hyperlinks.

    -Levari
  • The Golden Gun

    Posted: April 20, 2008, 6:51 am by Levari
    "Some people's photography is an art. Mine is not. If they happen to be exhibited in a gallery or a museum, that's fine. But that's not why I do them. I'm a gun for hire."

    ~Helmut Newton
  • The Neo Gilded Age - Biltmore Hotel - 3/08

    Posted: April 17, 2008, 8:41 am by Levari
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    The Neo Gilded Age - Biltmore Hotel - 3/08, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Versailles

    Posted: April 16, 2008, 3:57 am by Levari
    Waking mind refusing to let its guard down.
    Clenched body lying here, following its own orders.

    All the things you did not do today.
    All the gestures thought about but never made.
    All the whispers you thought you heard,
    but could never quite make out.

    Dreams of untwisted lands twisted.

    Then the real desires come
    as if they were never lost
    and never could be:

    family,
    life into old age,
    the forest after rain...

    grasstreesabookahouseawarmbedmygrandfatherwrappedinaredwoolblanketfishingtheriverandunhookingthesunniesformetothrowbackin...

    Finally, the sun peaks up
    and through the curtains
    to see if I'm all right.

    Then it tells me:

    You are,
    so go to sleep now.

    Hollywood - 1/07
  • Tera - 10/07 -The Short Stop, Silverlake

    Posted: April 15, 2008, 4:57 pm by Levari
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    Tera - 10/07, originally uploaded by levari.

  • These Days

    Posted: April 13, 2008, 10:41 pm by Levari
    "Both in and out of
    the game, and
    watching and wondering
    at it..."

    ~Walt Whitman
  • Both in and out ofthe game, ...

    Posted: April 13, 2008, 10:41 pm by Levari
    Both in and out of
    the game, and
    watching and wondering
    at it
  • The Sun Bathers - 3/08

    Posted: April 10, 2008, 2:19 am by Levari
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    The Sun Bathers - 3/08, originally uploaded by levari.

  • The Battle

    Posted: April 9, 2008, 3:55 am by Levari
    my conscious wants the vegetarians to conquer the world

    (for once.)

    my subconscious only wants a bloody piece of raw meat;

    most of the time it's all reversed

    (...to be continued...)

    Philadelphia, PA - 2/08
  • "Do you know Rubek, the sculptor?Dead ...

    Posted: April 8, 2008, 5:45 am by Levari
    "Do you know Rubek, the sculptor?
    Dead now. In an avalanche with only his model.
    He did two or three things that were pretty good, in marble...

    He could have been great, it's a pity.
    You get stuck inside what you are searching for:

    possession...possession...possession...

    They're all after a possession.
    They don't know it's impossible.

    Giving up everything is frightful."

    ~Edouard Frenhofer
  • Surveillance - 2/08

    Posted: April 7, 2008, 5:35 am by Levari
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    Surveillance - 2/08, originally uploaded by levari.

  • The Greatest Poem Ever Transcribed

    Posted: April 5, 2008, 3:59 am by Levari
    "It nearly cancels my fear of death, my dearest said,
    ...to rot in the earth
    is a loathsome end, but to roar up in flame---besides, I
    am used to it,
    I have flamed with love or fury so often in my life,
    no wonder my body is tired, no wonder it is dying.
    We had great joy of my body. Scatter the ashes."

    ~Robinson Jeffers
  • The Passion 1/15/08

    Posted: April 4, 2008, 7:01 am by Levari
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    The Passion 1/15/08, originally uploaded by levari.

  • First Page

    Posted: April 3, 2008, 11:02 pm by Levari
    In this moment
    along the beheaded
    path of time

    so begins
    the book
    of your life

    whose words you
    will conjure

    without
    asking permission,

    and

    without
    ever learning the rules.

    You will make them up
    while turning
    these coiled,
    cocked,
    ruined pages

    and transcribe into them
    the infinite whiteness
    of the desperate night,

    and this morning's
    mourning

    that tiptoes
    between the
    seconds
    of you.

    ~New York - 9/19/01
  • The Valet - 2/08

    Posted: April 1, 2008, 6:25 am by Levari
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    Valet - 2/08, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Meet The Press

    Posted: March 31, 2008, 5:30 am by Levari
    To maintain theories of renovating the human race through systems...is about the same thing as to maintain that man grows milder with civilization. Logically, perhaps, this is so; yet he is so prone to Systems and abstract deductions that he is forever ready to mutilate the truth, to be blind to what he sees or deaf to what he hears, so long as he can succeed in vindicating his logic...civilization develops in man nothing but an added capacity to receive impressions-that is all. And the growth of that capacity increases his tendency to seek pleasure in spilling blood. You may have noticed that some of the most enthusiastic blood-letters are almost always the most "civilized" of people.

    ~Nietzche

    "Western Civilization? Yes, I think that would be a good idea."

    ~Ghandi

    "You have to be something of a butchering murderer to be a politician."

    ~Henry Miller
  • Golden Bars

    Posted: March 28, 2008, 6:43 pm by Levari
    What were you always waiting for?
    All this "getting through..."

    What are you waiting for?
    All this so-called knowledge
    before you begin.

    One last book,
    one last sentence,
    one last word,
    one last film,
    one last theory,
    one last conversation

    that will finally end all this,
    let it begin.

    One last piece that will finally
    allow you to say

    goodbye,
    goodnight,

    I'm selling everything off,
    I'm burning everything down,
    going straight out of business,
    and it's about time.

    Maybe stand on you own,
    speak your own,
    hear your own

    just this once.

    And just when you believe
    there's nothing left,

    and

    it is finally time to begin
    there is always one more...

    One more question,
    one more curiosity,
    one more mistake,
    one more experience,
    one more overgrown path
    stretching before you.

    So you take the step,
    start chopping away,
    dive in,
    believing this is the last
    and afterwards
    life will begin,

    you always promise this.


    Los Angeles - 4/26/06
  • The Dance - 1/08

    Posted: March 24, 2008, 4:18 am by Levari
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    The Dance - 1/08, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Lady in Blue - 8/05

    Posted: March 19, 2008, 6:31 am by Levari
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    Lady in Blue - 8/05, originally uploaded by levari.

  • 14:12

    Posted: March 17, 2008, 2:54 am by Levari
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    14:12, originally uploaded by levari.

    "...as fate followed in our wake
    like a madman
    brandishing a razor."

    ~Zerkalo

  • La Brea, Los Angeles - dawn

    Posted: March 14, 2008, 5:27 am by Levari
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    La Brea, Los Angeles - 4:14 am, originally uploaded by levari.

  • "So much in writing depends on the ...

    Posted: March 13, 2008, 7:32 am by Levari
    "So much in writing depends on the superficiality of one's days. One may be preoccupied with shopping and income tax returns and chance conversations, but the stream of the unconsciousness continues to flow undisturbed, solving problems, planning ahead: one sits down sterile and dispirited at the desk; and suddenly the words come as though from the air: the situations that seemed blocked on a hopeless impasse move forward: the work has been done while one slept or shopped or talked with friends."

    ~Grahm Greene
  • fragments for a song never sung

    Posted: March 12, 2008, 5:00 pm by Levari
    up in flames
    we're up in flames
    no pain
    we're up in flames.

    lost the game
    no one to blame
    numb the pain
    our method
    by any means.

    up in flames
    we always go
    up in flames
    so take your picture
    have a ball
    it really doesn't matter at all,

    you and me
    we just went up in flames

    11/06


    with no shame
  • cinema=JLG=cinema

    Posted: March 10, 2008, 6:23 am by Levari
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    , originally uploaded by levari.

    "First there was Greek civilization. Then there was the Renaissance. Now we are entering the age of the ass!"

    ~Jean-Luc Godard
    Pierrot Le Fou

  • Bus Stop, Echo Park - 3/5/08

    Posted: March 7, 2008, 8:43 pm by Levari
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    Bus Stop, Echo Park - 3/5/08, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Last Words

    Posted: March 6, 2008, 3:45 am by Levari
    "Do not fill your life with gaps, but fill your gaps with life."

    ~Paul Bowles
  • Poets and Pornographers

    Posted: March 4, 2008, 9:58 pm by Levari
    The poets and the pornographers
    meet in the same place
    every night
    after the city has emptied out.

    Not the tourists
    nor the police
    can tell the
    poets and pornographers
    apart.

    In fact,
    the poets and pornographers
    can barely tell
    each other apart,
    let alone notice
    the absurdity
    of the situations
    that has brought them to this
    state
    of comraderie.

    The pornographers
    provide the cognac,
    the poets bring
    the cigars;
    it's been like this for
    longer than either
    can remember.

    Anything that happens
    between the hours
    of midnight and dawn
    has no
    precedent
    and is decided on
    a case by case
    basis.

    The poets and the pornographers
    laugh at each other's
    foibles, ticks, indiosynchrocies;

    they admire the same women and men;

    they mix freely,
    judge each other solely
    on moral grounds,
    and enjoy the missing
    hollows of each;

    sometimes they even
    crawl in.

    The poets and the pornographers
    often pair up, make love,
    spend days, weeks, even years
    only
    to split apart and recombine
    without wisdom or madness;

    it is only the pornographers
    that truly lament
    the passing of time
    while the poets
    invite gray hair
    and wrinkled skin.

    The poets and pornographers
    repeat, repeat, repeat
    all the same mistakes
    over and over again
    proudly.

    And often,
    the poets and pornographers
    cannot tell
    who is who,
    what is what,
    where they were last year,
    or even this morning.

    (They switch sides all the time.)

    The poets and pornographers
    keep their own secrets,
    agree to no memory,
    fight each other to the death,
    laugh at the rotting body's nakedness,
    weep at the rising sun,
    think everything of traffic and rain,

    and meet in the same place
    at the same time
    each and every night,

    but I'll never tell you
    where this is.

    Korea Town - Los Angeles 3/31/06
  • Morning Correspondance

    Posted: March 2, 2008, 9:03 pm by Levari
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    Morning Correspondance, originally uploaded by levari.

    Morning Lee,

    Are you working away on that screenplay that has this Friday's deadline?

    I am happy to tell you I am feeling much better today...

    Two nights ago I had quite a horrible dream that today I have come to understand has everything to do with what I have been going through, may I tell you about it?

    In this dream, I am 4 months pregnant, and I am starting to have heavy contractions. I am in one of the country hospitals where I was shooting the births during my Vietnam trip a couple months ago. Anyway, in this hospital the nurses tell me that I am in labor. I am so confused and scared and am wondering how I could possibly have the baby at such an early stage, and I am terrified that once the baby comes out it is going to be too premature to live.

    Then I suddenly find myself roaming on this mountain road high above the hospital, in ridiculous and horrifyng labor pain, wondering how my baby is going to be delivered. I know that I am going to have a baby with no one helping me and it is going to be in this mountain wildnerness. Aside from the pain, I feel this endless sadness, a sadness I've never felt anything quite like, simply that there is no one to help.

    So, I think what this dream signifies is my fear that whoever I love will end up leaving me stranded and alone. The pregnancy represents all my pains and emotions that I have to carry with me about this. Having no one there to help, this is my fear becoming real. Being back in the Vietnamese hospital and mountainside where I took those photographs showed me that when I get sad, usually the only place in my mind I can find peace is to dream about the mountains of Sapa; this is where the tribal regions of Vietnam exist.

    I don't know why but about eight years ago, when in
    one of my darkest stages, I began to have two images of myself that morph into and out of each other quite at random:

    For the first 5 years of the the 8, this image is of me sitting in a small, completely dark room with a small window and there is a tiny speck of light peeking through, but that is it, nothing else but darkness.

    Then for the next 2 years, I see an image of myself as an older
    lady, roaming around alone in strange, foreign lands, alone,
    but finally in peace with myself....

    Lee, these dreams, these images...it's always me ALONE. I am starting to wonder if it's also because I do believe that we
    are all born alone and too will die alone? I wonder if I believe this, or is it just a phrase that has no more truth than any other philosophy.

    Just thoughts...

    Hope you are well.

    And, oh, dinner on friday, you will be done with your
    deadline and good to go right?

    k.

    ---------------------------------

    reprinted with the permission of Katie Luong

  • Evening

    Posted: March 1, 2008, 9:02 pm by Levari
    "They grope before them like blind people and find each other as they would a door. Almost like children that dread the night, they press close into each other. And yet they are not afraid. There is nothing that might be against them: no yesterday, no tomorrow; for time is shattered. And they flower from its ruins...

    "They will give each other a hundred new names and take them all off again."

    ~Rilke
  • Atlantic City - 2/20/08

    Posted: February 27, 2008, 5:35 pm by Levari
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    Atlantic City - New Jersey - 2/20/08, originally uploaded by levari.

  • art 1

    Posted: February 25, 2008, 2:47 am by Levari
    everyone's watching everyone else.
    jealousy has eyes, especially at dawn

    (it gets so you can't notice anymore.)

    hunger's started living outside the stomach,
    but the townspeople won't say where.

    last night someone showed you
    how the planets continue on
    in their repeating orbits
    not because of some subservience
    to the so-called laws of gravity,
    but simply out of fear

    (just don't ask him how he knows this.)

    ~Saltine Sea - 11/00
  • Las Vegas - 2/12/08

    Posted: February 21, 2008, 6:43 pm by Levari
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    Las Vegas - 2/12/08, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Ocean

    Posted: February 20, 2008, 6:39 pm by Levari
    transition as
    tradition,

    eternal
    return,

    togetherness
    separeteness
    aloneness
    bridge-less.

    forever us
    less
    than it is
    and has always
    been,

    except
    for your now
    becoming
    mine,

    then breaking
    without shattering,
    passing onwards,
    through:

    painless.

    nature, as it is called, has
    never been less
    than clear with us.

    ~Longport, New Jersey - 2/18/08
  • Father and Son

    Posted: February 19, 2008, 5:00 am by Levari
    "All I want is to enter my house justified."

    ~"Ride The High Country" as quoted by Mr. Peckinpah to his son Sam.
  • "I don't use the accident. I deny ...

    Posted: February 17, 2008, 4:16 am by Levari
    "I don't use the accident. I deny the very idea of an accident."

    ~Jackson Pollock
  • The Concert Goer

    Posted: February 13, 2008, 6:31 am by Levari
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    The Concert, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Night

    Posted: February 12, 2008, 7:33 am by Levari
    "It's at night, when perhaps we should be dreaming, that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull. I don't know if anyone has ever pointed out that great attraction of insomnia before, but it is so; the night seems to release a little more of our vast backward inheritance of instincts and feelings; as with the dawn, a little honey is allowed to ooze between the lips of the sandwich, a little of the stuff of dreams to drip into the waking mind. I wish I believed, as J. B. Priestley did, that consciousness continues after disembodiment or death, not forever, but for a long while. Three score years and ten is such a stingy ration of time, when there is so much time around. Perhaps that's why some of us are insomniacs; night is so precious that it would be pusillanimous to sleep all through it! A "bad night" is not always a bad thing."

    ~Brian W. Aldiss
  • To The Climbing Tree

    Posted: February 10, 2008, 10:03 pm by Levari
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    To The Climbing Tree, originally uploaded by levari.

    Your simple, sturdy branches
    between scratched legs and
    bare feet once transformed
    a simple boy into

    a king,
    an emperor,
    a conqueror

    of jungles, oceans, deserts, mountains -

    so many that I believed
    your powers were endless,
    and were mine.

    Just a boy, we are always being reminded.
    Just a boy, we are constantly being told.

    But you let me have it, for as long as I wanted,
    in whatever way I could imagine,
    as long as I stayed within your budding grasp.

    Now
    I have come back to this backyard,
    these woods, and I am
    so tired from living with the brutality of the decorated world, though I know it is my place, and I must return.

    You stand here dying, my old friend,
    on this February morning,
    in snow falling too soft and meaningless
    to ever stick.

    You stand here dying, you son of a bitch,
    and it's only a matter of time now

    as I sit
    leaning my back against
    your hollowed trunk
    wishing you
    would now
    lean against me,
    that I could take the weight,
    any weight,
    let alone yours.

    If I could, maybe for a moment,
    we could make each other young,
    strong and fearless against all comers,
    while laughing at these seasons,
    the way we once did
    together.

    Dresher, PA - 2/9/08

  • After The Performance - 1/22/08

    Posted: February 8, 2008, 8:20 pm by Levari
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    After The Performance, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Flower Pots

    Posted: February 6, 2008, 1:55 am by Levari
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    Flower Pots, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Crazy Horse

    Posted: February 5, 2008, 4:52 am by Levari
    "He would have preferred, I imagine, simply to avoid them and go on living a traditional Sioux life, raiding, hunting dreaming; but the option of avoidance was not available to him for very long. The whites were too many, and they weren't satisfied with the Holy Road. They weren't satisfied with any one place or one road; they wanted everything. So he fought: on the Bozeman, on the Powder River, on the Yellowstone, in the Black Hills, on the Tongue and the Rosebud, at the Little Big Horn...He didn't win the war. What is hard to judge is how long he really expected to, if he ever expected to. Despite much urging, and unlike Red Cloud, Spotted Tail and Sitting Bull, he never went east, never saw the whites in their seats of power; had he done so, he might have drawn the same conclusion they drew. But he went his own way, travelled his own road, until it dead-ended at Fort Robinson in September of 1877. Looked back on from the perspective of one hundred and twenty years, Crazy Horse's doom seems Sophoclean, inevitable, but perhaps all dooms do, once the roads taken and not taken deliver the character to his fate."

    -Larry McMurtry "Crazy Horse"
  • Oliveira Street - Los Angeles - 11/07

    Posted: February 3, 2008, 8:24 am by Levari
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    Oliveira Street - Los Angeles - 11/07, originally uploaded by levari.

  • "You see, in this world there is ...

    Posted: February 2, 2008, 9:25 am by Levari
    "You see, in this world there is one tragic thing: everyone has his reasons."

    -Jean Renoir
  • Kitai (Protection)

    Posted: January 29, 2008, 7:08 pm by Levari
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    Kitai, originally uploaded by levari.

  • "Nothing matters except pleasure--which is the opposite ...

    Posted: January 26, 2008, 6:06 am by Levari
    "Nothing matters except pleasure--which is the opposite of happiness; it's the tragic part, I expect."

    -Lawrence Durrell
  • Boy

    Posted: January 24, 2008, 6:27 pm by Levari
    If you look closely
    you can see him disappearing

    (few ever do for
    beauty does
    seem to have
    that effect.)

    He does not mind, though,
    not like he thought he would.

    He does not mind,
    it does not hurt his pride
    to be the center of attention
    in this way.

    He does not mind,
    he has watched others
    and studied well...

    -some with grace
    -some without
    -some he loved
    -some he pretended to love (for reasons he still cannot quite understand)
    -some he did not even try

    With all this experience
    he did not mind,
    and pretended to disappear
    with nothing more
    than his own signature.

    He did not mind,
    it was easy
    even without a working pen.

    He did not mind,
    he would not return
    this much he knew
    was right now.

    No promise,
    no seed planted,

    Just his body,

    Just his eyes,
    and the impermananet edges
    of them seperating him
    out.

    Just his position
    at the center of the universe,

    that small and meaningless stage,
    with his happiness and hatred, finally.

    But every once in a while
    he does have an urge
    he cannot explain:

    He wants to tell them all.

    He knows he should, could;

    He knows now he can say it
    without nostalgia,

    as the parasites
    gather
    around his empty shell,

    he wants to tell them
    how he is finally fearless---
    and crumbling.

    Los Angeles - 7/28/07
  • Bud - 1/18/07

    Posted: January 22, 2008, 6:18 pm by Levari
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    IMG_0216, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Portrait of Buddy - Los Angeles, 1/18/06

    Posted: January 21, 2008, 6:34 pm by Levari
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    IMG_0216, originally uploaded by levari.
  • Birthday Letters

    Posted: January 17, 2008, 6:40 pm by Levari
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    Birthday Letter, originally uploaded by levari.

  • The Realist Manifesto

    Posted: January 16, 2008, 6:15 am by Levari
    "Language was invented to hide one's thoughts."

    -Talleyrand
  • You

    Posted: January 14, 2008, 3:47 am by Levari
    I'm in the clutches of the living
    even if it will never be
    quite right.

    So let the daylight have its formality
    as long as you become my myth
    tonight.

    9/21/07
  • figure - Winter, 06

    Posted: January 10, 2008, 11:10 pm by Levari
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    figure painting - Winter, 06, originally uploaded by levari.

  • "The point is, art is something subversive. ...

    Posted: January 7, 2008, 12:05 am by Levari
    "The point is, art is something subversive. It's something that should not be free. Art and liberty, like the fire of Prometheus, are things one must steal, to be used against the established order. Once art becomes official and open to everyone, then it becomes academic. If art is ever given the keys to the city, it will be because it's been so watered down, rendered so impotent, that it's not worth fighting for...So this business about art defending or freeing culture is absurd. One can defend culture in a broad, general sense, if you mean by the heritage of the past, but the right to free expression is something one seizes, not something one is given."

    -Picasso
  • To The Notebooks (17 Years)

    Posted: January 4, 2008, 5:34 am by Levari
    meaningless history,
    clouded photography,

    attempts at nobility,
    natural instinct for idiocy,

    tossed off drawings,
    the blade of reality,

    studied lies,
    fumbling towards honesty,

    infinite pretense,
    the sometimes redeeming gift of creativity,

    endless violence,
    bottomless delicacy,

    the hole,
    the ecstasy,

    noble cowardice, stupid bravery,

    infallible fallibility,

    all the enemies,
    friends,
    loves,
    family,

    and the only proof of this residency
    I've tried to record,

    (for some reason
    I still can't understand,)

    ever so faithfully.

    Los Angeles 3/1/07
  • #1

    Posted: January 2, 2008, 5:50 am by Levari
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    #1, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Plant 12/05

    Posted: December 24, 2007, 3:28 am by Levari
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    Plant, originally uploaded by levari.

  • unexpected poem

    Posted: December 22, 2007, 6:14 am by Levari
    (for some of us)

    "There are
    no
    frivolous moments
    this
    time of year."

    -Judd Trichter
  • Famous Gambler, 2007

    Posted: December 21, 2007, 5:27 am by Levari
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    Famous Gambler, 2007, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Famous Gambler, 1937

    Posted: December 20, 2007, 6:43 pm by Levari
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    famous gambler, 1937, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Profile - 3/07

    Posted: December 20, 2007, 5:31 am by Levari
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    Profile Of A Girl - 3/07, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Metamorphoses

    Posted: December 18, 2007, 6:28 am by Levari
    ...My soul would sing of metamorphoses,
    But since, o gods, you were the source of these
    bodies becoming other bodies, breathe
    your breath into my book of changes.

    -Ovid
  • Staring At The World Through His Rear View

    Posted: December 17, 2007, 3:23 am by Levari
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    Staring At The World Through His Rear View, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Los Angeles @ 3:13

    Posted: December 16, 2007, 4:06 am by Levari
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    Los Angeles @ 3:13, originally uploaded by levari.

    "Los Angeles, come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town."

    - John Fante, "Ask The Dust"

  • Laurel Canyon

    Posted: December 16, 2007, 3:08 am by Levari
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    Laurel Canyon, originally uploaded by levari.

    "Los Angeles, give me some of you! Los Angeles come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town."

    - John Fante, "Ask The Dust"

  • the subtle, quiet policy of scorched earth

    Posted: December 12, 2007, 4:23 am by Levari
    Unroll our history and,
    yes, it's true:
    we have lost much country
    in each other,
    to each other;

    more than can ever be
    remembered,
    much less written down

    (even if old Homer
    was still around.)

    Slashed and burned the landscape out mercilessly,

    ripped the dogs from the porches
    and the babies from their cribs
    as we marched through,
    no regrets/no remorse,

    sometimes continue to,

    (for this is all animals with our stripes
    ever know how to do.)

    But somehow,
    through all our battered hands
    and sutured, unbleachable selves;

    through all these useless, no longer fitting feet
    we have left in our wake

    we have yet to surrender
    an eye lash, a toe nail,
    a bone, or a dawn

    to any of them.

    Boulder, Colorado - 11/07
  • Withdraw - 1994

    Posted: December 7, 2007, 7:21 am by Levari
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    Withdraw - 1994, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Girl At The Counter

    Posted: November 29, 2007, 2:30 am by Levari
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    Girl At The Counter, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Kitai 2/07

    Posted: November 26, 2007, 4:08 am by Levari
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    Kitai 2/07, originally uploaded by levari.

  • "For while the tale of how we ...

    Posted: November 19, 2007, 8:43 am by Levari
    "For while the tale of how we suffer, and how are delighted, and how we may survive, even triumph is never new, it always must be heard. There isn't any other tale to tell, it's the only light we've got in all this darkness."

    -James Baldwin, "Sonny's Blues"
  • Percy and Max

    Posted: November 19, 2007, 4:02 am by Levari
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    Percy and Max, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Kyle

    Posted: November 13, 2007, 1:16 am by Levari
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    Kyle, originally uploaded by levari.

  • The Clock Was Red

    Posted: November 12, 2007, 7:37 pm by Levari
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    The Clock Was Red, originally uploaded by levari.

  • my tribe

    Posted: November 10, 2007, 7:56 am by Levari
    megan's in the bedroom
    drawing and watching TV,

    brian's in the garage
    dreaming impossibility.

    junk Man's in his bedroom
    re-painting again,

    jeff's banging on the backdoor
    just trying to get in.

    danny's on the telephone
    trying to calm Jake,

    adam's in the bathroom
    thinking about the money he could make.

    liz went to New York City
    and she ain't ever coming home,

    now kyrsten drives around L.A.
    singing to herself alone.

    judd's in his apartment
    noon on Tuesday
    trying not to think.

    lee's lying on the couch -
    he hasn't moved in five hours -
    drawing humming birds
    in invisible ink.

    max is with Natasha
    trying to make love last.

    marko's with everyone
    high again
    floats on past.

    mazzi's pouring coffee
    philosophically,

    mike's at the gym
    rehabbing his blown out knee.

    beau's busy wiping the bar down
    watching the world get by,

    you wonder who will be the last of us
    to call the bet
    and
    finally say
    goodbye

    Los Angeles - 8/02
  • Autumn Pages

    Posted: November 6, 2007, 9:07 pm by Levari
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    Autumn Pages, originally uploaded by levari.

  • 2 Autumn Pages

    Posted: November 6, 2007, 9:02 pm by Levari
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    2 Autumn Pages, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Pipes' Ping

    Posted: November 6, 2007, 4:48 am by Levari
    it's supposed to be winter and
    i'm officially tired
    of all their
    grand gestures,
    symbolic meetings of solidarity,
    rallying cries,
    and statement games.

    right now
    i want the forgotten,
    the never noticed,
    the pushed aside,
    the beetle's wing,
    the offscreen,
    bob marley's toe,
    the surrendered,
    and useless shadows
    at 4 o'clock.

    it's supposed to be winter,
    and
    my biology's
    hammering
    for a long overdue hibernation
    curled
    behind closed doors
    with you:

    what we
    see, feel, smell, taste
    and nothing else
    for a while;

    and down blankets,
    and snow,
    and windows
    translucent
    from frost.

    tonight i turned the heat on for us,
    listened to the pipes' ping
    for a while,

    pretended
    i was waiting for you
    somewhere else.

    Los Angeles - 2/15/06
  • Envelope After Phone Call

    Posted: November 4, 2007, 5:52 pm by Levari
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    Envelope After Phone Call, originally uploaded by levari.

  • Sounds

    Posted: October 30, 2007, 6:37 am by Levari
    The pigeons calling to each other from roof to roof.
    The Lubavitch children playing secretly behind the dumpsters.
    The shattering of bottles across the street at dawn.
    The sirens and helicopters and spotlights shining through windows all night long.
    The ocean and its waves that somehow don't break.
    These the sounds of our routine, sleeping and awake.

    I admit that I have little memory for dates, anniversaries, birthdays, or all of those unforgettable moments...

    I have no memory but
    for the sounds of sounds,
    another morning I've been given again,
    and somehow you

    I found.

    Los Angeles - 1/22/07
  • The Double Flame

    Posted: October 26, 2007, 11:17 pm by Levari
    "The dangerous nature of poetry is inherent in its composition and is a constant in all periods and in all poets. There is always a schism between social and poetic expression: poetry is the "other" voice. The voice beneath."

    -Octavio Paz
  • The Tripping

    Posted: October 22, 2007, 11:58 pm by Levari
    Driving...

    No, her driving
    and him in the back seat
    trying to make sense of the map
    on that one lane road
    just as it is starting to rain...

    This is the journey,
    the journey they had both been anticipating
    for weeks,
    waiting for without ever admitting it
    to each other.

    I'm talking about how
    it all comes down to
    him wanting some strawberries
    from the bag in the backseat
    and from there, well, it just goes...

    First the innuendo, then the accusations
    then the stories of each of their
    mutual abandonments,

    finally, the silence and the fear.

    Then her saying she has to use the bathroom,
    and him saying there's nowhere to stop,
    that they'll just have to push on.

    And then,
    not able to hold it,
    she begins to pee in her pants
    while
    simultaneously
    confessing

    EVERYTHING.

    Her jeans and the seat
    are seeped
    in the wetness, but
    she just continues confessing.

    She will not stop confessing.

    Would you please stop confessing, please?!

    He doesn't want to know
    the list of
    names
    dates
    and exact locations,

    only because he can't match her
    sin for sin--

    he has nothing to confess to her...
    sin for sin--

    In their love
    he wasn't innocent
    only without mystery,
    without secrets,
    without myth nor shadow
    (so much worse.)

    This ride
    the pavement
    the rain
    her words
    all of it is just happening,
    all of it mixing together
    and he can't tell anything
    apart anymore;

    not the road nor the wheels,
    not the sky or the ground,

    not the rain, nor the air,
    not him or her...

    And how did a joke about
    strawberries turn into this?

    He grabs her by the shoulders-

    he tells her to look at him,
    his face, his eyes, his lips,

    to study it
    every detail
    to study it
    hard

    because you only
    get one chance
    to try and tell the difference
    between each other.

    He asks her
    if she remembers him
    if she remembers her.

    She stares back as the rain
    blasts against the wind shields,

    the white streaks
    of the headlights
    of the pounding
    semi trucks
    coming right at them...

    You stare at me and begin to move
    your lips, but I can't hear what you're saying
    between our heaving chest.

    I can feel you breathing through my skin
    again.

    L.A. - 6/10/06
  • The Big Hold Out

    Posted: October 19, 2007, 9:44 pm by Levari
    How long can
    all this speculation
    go on,

    all the maybes,
    the perhapses,
    the we'll just wait and see(s?)

    All the buying,
    and the selling,

    the negotiations
    for some supposed space
    like it's our most precious
    commodity.

    How long can we stare
    at computer screens
    always waiting,
    always on,

    always telling us
    who we are
    or who we are
    supposed to be?

    How long can we stand
    to watch each other
    plastered to our seats

    thinking we're moving
    closer
    when we're only drifting
    farther away?

    How long until it feels
    like this is ours
    and not some interview
    you've seen a thousand
    times before
    on late night TV?

    How long until I find you,
    the you who can make
    this real with joy, pain
    and everything in between,

    make me finally accept
    the transience of me?

    How long until we surrender
    and let ourselves age and decay,

    bloom one last time,
    then finally fall away?

    Please, can someone, anyone
    just tell us
    how long until this hold out ends,

    and the subways start running
    again?

    12/27/05 - Brooklyn, NY
  • Try

    Posted: October 16, 2007, 6:20 am by Levari
    "Let's be new people."
    "What?"
    "Let's be new people, completely new people, people who don't know each other and never did. We'll have no past and no future, nothing, it'll be like we just met right now."
    "That would be very difficult."
    "Why?"
    "Because it would mean I've broken into your apartment."
    "Stop it, I'm being serious."
    "Is this even possible?"
    "I don't know. I never tried it with anyone before."
    "Neither have I."
    "Do you want to try? It'll be like a game. We'll just, just start over."
    "I don't know, man. There's a lot of history. It's not like you can just forget..."
    "Sure, we can forget. Maybe we could forget. You know, I know I could forget."
    "You never remember anything anyway. Ever since I've known you. You can't remember where we went to dinner the last time we saw each other."
    "That's not true."
    "Then where?"
    "Okay, I have a lot going on in my life, I can't remember exactly where or even when, but I remember. I mean, I remember, the gist..."
    "The gist?"
    "The spirit. The spirit of our last meeting."
    "Ah yes, the spirit, that would be hard to forget, wouldn't it?"
    "And that's just want I want to do. That's what we should do. Just for a little while."
    "A little while? There are many, many spirits to forget, in this case. I think it might take more than a little while."
    "I could. I would. You could too."
    "It's too easy for someone like you. That's what I don't understand. How can it be so easy for someone like you?"
    "Someone like me?"
    "Someone so smart and funny...How can you choose to forget, to ignore, not just this, just, everything?"
    "It just is. It just is. That's all. That's it. Like a zebra. Like a zebra having stripes. These are just my stripes. It's just the way I am. I'm smart enough not to question it. It's just how I am. How I was made, decorated."
    "Look, I admire your stripes, the stripedness of them, but I don't understand them or where they come from and I certainly don't want them hanging up on my wall."
    "I should hope not."
    "Most people would. Most people would take one look at a girl's stripes like yours and the first thing they'd do is get out their knife and skin you up good. Skin you up so there was nothing left of you underneath, just the stripes on top. Would you like that?"
    "It sounds like bliss. Momentary bliss. But bliss. But not you, right?"
    "No, not me."
    "Why not? Don't think you could catch me?"
    "I'm afraid I would."
    "You never know. That's why we play this game, right?"
    "I'm tired. Must sleep. I'm leaving tomorrow. Early."
    "C'mon....Please! Try. For me."
    "Okay, what time is it?"
    "Ten of twelve."
    "Yeah, for like, I don't know, a half hour we'll be strangers, okay. Tabula Raza. And then I have to go to bed."
    "It doesn't have to be like that, y'know, so practical all the time. You were always so practical."
    "Well, you know me."
    "Yeah, I do."
    "So how do we do this? How does one, or two, begin to forget?"
    "It's amazing, five minutes ago, when I first had the idea, it was perfect, I swear I could have written a dissertation on how two people can disappear completely together, but now, I really don't even know anymore."
    "Hey..."
    "I assumed there was complicity."
    "Complicity?"
    "Between you and me. An innate complicity. But there's none, is there?"
    "I don't...
    "I don't know what I was thinking with you...You don't even know me at all."
    "I just don't...
    "You dummy. You're so dumb, you know that? All I've ever wanted to do is forget, and all you've ever wanted to do is remember.
    "Those are my stripes."
    "Well, you can only hang out in between for so long before one or the other breaks."
    "So which one of us is it going to be? Who's going to break?"
    "Guess we're going to find out."
    "I guess so."
    "Well, it's about time."
    "Would you shutup and turn out the light?"
    "Yeah."

    Atlanta to Los Angeles
  • akhmatova - 1924

    Posted: October 13, 2007, 3:21 am by Levari
    .flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }
    akhmatova - 1924, originally uploaded by levari.

    Alexandrian Society - 6/23/07

    The ancient Alexandrian Society every day played a game where in they convinced themselves that they were condemned to death in order to make their every day observations more poignant.

    In their minds images appeared in the memory as vivid fragments: Their memories do not proceed in sequence but run after one another in a jolting wave, a stream of images - once forgotten eyes, someone's light blue dress, the voice of a passing stranger - because the concrete fragments carried the perception of imminent death, readers would associate them with important moments in their own lives...

    Mikhail Kuzmin - "The Collected Poems of Anna Akhmatova"

  • Home

    Posted: October 12, 2007, 6:04 pm by Levari
    "Keep away from fantasy. Shake off the image..."

    -Sam Shepard, "The Tooth of Crime"

    Philadelphia
  • scraps found in pockets at dawn...

    Posted: October 11, 2007, 9:24 pm by Levari
    you stare through the window
    at the end of the hall -
    the bunches of blood roses
    against the blue wall...

    wake up dead for all you had shouted,
    all you will never say;
    wake up dead and badly rhyming
    day after day.

    -------------

    phones die
    people pry
    cats cry

    on occasion

    even lovers try
    we always lie
    no one can say why.

    (language comes early,
    and without any mercy.)

    phones pry
    people still die
    cats always lie

    (that's the secret of their strut)

    lovers almost always try
    again
    even after prying through each other's lives.

    on occasion - I assume - someone knows why.

    (language came early,
    my only mercy.)

    -Brooklyn, New York
  • Williamsburg, Brooklyn

    Posted: October 11, 2007, 5:31 am by Levari
    ...is like Berlin Light.
  • Hop Scotch

    Posted: October 8, 2007, 7:24 am by Levari
    Anything you can't walk away from, run away from.
  • Tragedies of The The Technological Age - Vol. 7 (What He Said)

    Posted: October 5, 2007, 4:01 am by Levari
    "These days
    Yeah....
    You could get away with murder.

    It would be easy,

    Because
    For all our so-called technology
    I just as soon figure
    Nobody's really watching anyone else
    at all.

    We think we are, but we're just staring at
    a TV show, a football game, a magazine cover
    all the while imagining ourselves.

    We think we're looking,
    but we're just dreaming
    our lives away.

    That guy over there?
    You could kill em' durin' a commercial break
    because
    we don't even know how to see each other anymore."
  • Last

    Posted: October 2, 2007, 7:12 am by Levari
    Hanging, yellowed notes and epigrams:

    scribbled reminders
    of meetings and moments,
    of pleasures and hedonism.

    Quotes by the known
    to you (and perhaps me,)
    the unknown.

    Those carved, fountain lines,
    your elegantly restless handwriting;

    there were so many words
    lining those mirrors and walls
    they often reminded me
    of leaves falling from trees

    as they blew around
    that room
    in the last autumn breeze.

    But more than
    ink and paper,
    these
    were your talismans,

    totems in miniature
    to protect you
    from ever
    losing yourself
    again;

    I will never know if they worked.

    Tonight
    it's so quiet
    on this coast
    relentlessly jutting
    towards Africa,

    and only now,
    staring out
    at waves
    I can never know,
    do I finally realize
    how little
    pleasure and hedonism
    there was
    for you,

    the fading ballerina
    of my ocean mind.

    Frigillana, Spain - 6/07
  • M.C.M.

    Posted: September 28, 2007, 10:55 pm by Levari
    The fearless mistakes of tonight,
    the shameless facts of tomorrow.

    9/26/07
  • from the unwritten history

    Posted: September 25, 2007, 9:22 pm by Levari
    #113 - silence has killed a lot more people than bombs ever have.
  • Visiting Day

    Posted: September 24, 2007, 4:12 am by Levari
    Don't you know by now
    your kind is better at wanting
    then you will ever be at having.

    This is your gift and your tragedy
    that you chose and did not,
    your fault alone and
    can never be your fault.

    (blame the generation before, and the one before that, and the one ad infinitum...)

    This, you, is nothing but an animal nature.

    But you cannot know this, can you?
    Otherwise it would be different,
    and for it to be different would mean
    that your time is now.

    But, no, your time is not now.

    Soon enough, yes, but not quite now.

    So don't know yet.

    Not yet.

    No, not quite yet...

    Be patient and perhaps there will still be some time left?


    No promises.


    9/22/07

Blah blah blah

Fish cakes

Alas a fish cake.

Yet more fish cakes

Guess what ... yeah ... fish cakes.

The end of the fish cakes


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