“ Sleeplessly
I watch over
the spring night—
but no amount of guarding
is enough to make it stay. ”
Izumi Shikibu
If poetry was a person, it would be naked. Because words speak too loudly, whether they are delicate or raw. Either way, you see them crying or smiling — tempting you to touch and feel exactly what they show you. The best thing about their body would be how much they allow themselves to show you. If they show too little, you want more; but if they show too much, you may perhaps make love.
Poetry could be as nude as you want it to be. The question I always ask myself is “how naked should I be today?”
No more words are required. You said it all.
Fluttering force
Kiss me this morn
Invisible power
Fill the sleeves of my jacket.
Send shivers up my back.
Wood and canvas rest idle
Awaiting your touch
From where will you come today?
Cool lightness from the north
A gust of eastern strength
Whispering in a southern accent
Or the west’s persistent howl
I’ll turn my face to meet you
Listen to your influence
On the waves beneath the hull
Supply these sails with direction
I will follow your lead.
This “trailer” is for a documentary film that is still in production, estimated completion by winter 2013.
Shot in Carriacou in the Grenadines, where the last Caribbean boatbuilders maintain a tenuous grip on their traditional skills. In St. Barth’s where the smuggling trade in liquor & cigarettes thrived. And Antigua where the Carriacou vessels race each year among vintage yachts in the Classic Regatta.
Mixed with rare archive film, interviews with the last old Caribbean sea captains - the movie combines dramatic sailing footage with narration and an original soundtrack to tell the story of the Vanishing Sail of the West Indies.
Oh, the possibilities.
“ This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing, but a stirring warmth flowed from her, as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. ”
The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
