- I Follow Rivers //

@ GREECE at last//August 15// Island of Spetses

All my thoughts become
a page that is wet
all those pencil notes
Eidothea's notes to her Apollo
Garia's poems to her lovers
they are pointless to be read at this moment

the past
and the past before that past
where did it go?
The water covered it

my body is finally floating
on its own
it is my body
that will keep soaking
till the bad dreams
stop bothering me

i notice my friends
and their hands
strong, playful,while
my hand is trying to grasp this moment
this moment of the chain
this moment of the friendship
that kept brining me back to shore
year after year
every time
I thought I was drowning.

For a friend
is a raging sea
that keeps us moving on
but also is the calm river
that holds us still //

My friends are the
RIVERS that I follow //

- Time for the Color of L .O. V. E.

Couple at the corner of Bowery and Great Jones

Yellow Cab

take me to the city of love

dry me on a rainy day

and meet me in the corner,

the usual corner of our fire

Bowery and Great Jones

like two Lovely Ones

Yellow Cab

the burning of our heat

is about to take its seat

Yellow Cab

ride me to the city of love

again and again

and speed up cause

once you park

at the end of the street

then who knows?

at which corner

we shall meet

- Garia August

- 100 Freewoman Street

100 Freeman Street, Greenpoint, NY, 2008

100 Freewoman street. -

I saw that door again

it looked at me

with its heavy look of steel

Open I ordered

Let me in

I walked up the same stairs

the steps smelled like a memory that was erasen

the steps smelled like a memory that

cries out to be new again

I walked the same corridor

passed the wood factory

and found new life

at the cat cow studio

And suddenly I turned to the right

my eye made a hole through the walls

of

102

to

103

to

104

was it 104?

i cant remember

i saw through

walls of broken lives

walls of others

walls that are not ours anymore

the promise is still there

in the sounds of those walls

"This house I made for us"

its just getting nice outside

Look at the Moon

Feel the misty night

Monica Naam and I

we walk and talk

we walk and talk

Break the link

or keep it

Break the link

or keep it

Light

Light

More light

I forgive Me

I forgive You

You forgive Me?

You are a Free Man

and with Me

I am there, and here

here and there

Some days free

Some days far away

Some days near

Last night we

were there

I was seating on

the light green broken chair

You were seating on

the stool

Last night we

were there again

on the street naked

Me, A Freewoman

You, A Freeman

Whats left

its just

a

street -

and a

big thick

wall -

Maybe the wind breaks the wall

and we walk the street together

"For We Creatures Are the Wind "

- Garia August

Greenpoint

November 15th, 2010

Moment of Surrender -

Wedding Bed, October 16th, 2010 - Inn at Irving

I surrender to the emptiness of any moment

that I may have to spend without you

the emptiness of the white A4 paper

that bothers my free typewriter a night with no ink

I surrender to the emptiness of my laugh

when its not meeting a laugh thats yours

Did I tell you I surrender?

You out there,

free man

free woman

of our times

Tonight I surrender

to the time apart that makes us stronger for one another

and not hollow humans of an emotionally insecure system

that we don't belong to

Tonight I am having a moment of Surrender

to the passion that will not keep us far from each other

to that fire that will not keep us competitors of our flames

I am not asking from you

to surrender to me

I am asking from you

to surrender to yourself

I am aware of the S P A C E

that will exist if I lose you

my precious one -

- Garia August

Inspired by E. & S. J. who did surrender.

Prytania Street in New Orleans

- THE FLYING GYPSY NYMPH

I saw the flying white nymphs
I saw five of them at start
Then an array of three more
Fleeting free away from me apart

I saw the flying white nymphs
They were showing me the way
towards the brown stone secret gate
Where St Vincent is looking for
the betrayed from luck child’s mate

They run around us
Nowhere for them to hide
Genevieve is crying all night
out of Room Nr 1135
Frederic is getting saved this morning
by Mademoiselle outside
of Room Nr 1259


I saw the flying nymphs
I saw eleven of them at start
Then the aura of one more
Fleeting free away from me apart

I saw the flying gypsy nymph
She was showing me the white line
Towards the forbidden molded swine
Where Prytania is looking for
A blooded fabric that once was mine

- Garia August

St. Vincent Hostel
New Orleans
May 1st, 2010

This post is influenced by my stay at St Vincent Hostel (an old children’s asylum) in New Orleans where all the muses and the Greek Myths remain the unseen gypsies in every visitors’ troubled nights.

- FRANCESCA WOODMAN: ALWAYS A ?

It was on a rainy evening few weeks ago that the below photo arrived to the FindingEidothea mail inbox with a note saying : "Maria Garozi & Garia August remind me of this photo"

Looking carefully through the photo I wrote the below poem totally inspired by the presence of the two figures in this room; or could it be one figure in the eyes of the photographer? or could it be the photographer herself?-



Foto: Francesca Woodman

-FEET AND HAIR.

The hour passed by slowly
Each second, each minute was ignorant
of what would become to the two figures
who seem so distant
but yet were the exact same propwpopoihshs
in the eyes of her camera -

Feet that remains still
Feet that is scared to walk
outside of the destiny door
A destiny; which is a given mysery
within the imagination of those who think know better -


Hair that is loose
Hair that is playful
Body and feet that is free
to jump out of the door
and create its own destiny
A destiny; which is an imaginery experiment
To love and hate,
To feel pleasure and feel pain
To live and die
To create and destroy
even if this translates
to creating a new self
till she destroys it-

-Garia August

For more info on Francesca Woodman's monograph book with her work you can check http://www.phaidon.com/

Garia's Typewriter

Maria's salute for the Singing Boy

.THE ANCHORED HEARTS’ BLUES-



A beautiful boy anchored
In her stormy sea
and held her heart captive
360 nights that made her feel alive
so no man her love would bare again to see

on night 13
wrapped the heart
in flower paper of velvet green
and took her to announce his love
in the gardens of his queen

on night 71 at dawn
he stacked the heart
in a castle made of sand
and let it wash alone to get strong
on the tip of the island that’s known to be long


on night 103 after all that
he dressed the heart
in a hat to look as a holiday angel of his art
and walked together hand by hand
in the marble lovers’ estate land

on night 211
he glued the heart
inside the glass of his ego box
and got on stage alone
without having her around staring like a fox

on night 232
he draw the heart
in all the pages of his books
and threw them from
the San Fransisco bridges' hooks

on night 360
he hid the heart
in the cords of his kithara's looks
and since then remained alone
singing his own hearts' anchored blues

.Maria Garozi-
San Fransisco, March 2009
From the Singing Boy volume

SANDALS

sandals.
sent with a sealed kiss
from a far away land-

sandals.
whose leather still smells
like the room at Hotel Del Ville
where they kissed for the last time-

sandals.
left in an empty room
for days
for weeks
for years
waiting for salvation
that is a dead heart-

sandals.
that will never be worn again
for their owner drowned in the
open sea of her own tears-

-Garia August