Gustav Klimt – Adele Bloch-Bauer

…That sad past that I blindly walked

Through the dark beaches of the world

Inhumanely agitates itself

Threatening to disturb the fertile dawn of the moment…

– Julia DeBurgos

In Total Nudity

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One day I will go to dance with you
To a far away place, where no laws exist, nor reasons govern
Where the water is breeze, where the bird is flower
Where everything pure and natural is confused with the grace of God
In a place clean of convention
Sterile to the mundane embrace that threatens your luck
Fertile to everything spontaneous, to the rain, to love
There, in total nudity
Rid of the elegant trappings of fine formalism
Used by human lackeys to pompously cover the scars of last nights orgies
We shall dance the dance of life
To the rhythm of a fire of light, that will burst from the sun
– Julia DeBurgos

I was the quietest one…

Gustav Klimt – Salome

Of all those who made voyage to your port. No lewd social ceremonies announced me, nor the deaf bells of ancestral reflections.  My route was the savage music of the birds, releasing to the air my circling generosity. No ships heavy with opulence carried me, nor oriental rugs supported my body. Over the ships my face appeared, whistling in the round simplicity of the winds. I did not weigh the harmony of trivial ambitions which your hand promised, full of star-bursts, I only weighted on the floor of my agile spirit the tragic abandon which your gesture occulted. Your perennial duty was marked by the avid thirst. You resembled the sea, resonant and discrete. Over you I went, passing my lost hours. Over me, you followed yourself, like the sun in the petals. And I walked in the breeze of your fallen pain, with the ingenious sadness knowing myself right. Your life was a profound churning of restless fountains, in an immense white river, running to the desert. One day, by the yellow shores of hysteria, many hidden faces of ambition followed you. Through the waves of your tears, uprooted through the cosmos, voices leaked without crossing your mystery. I was the quietest one. The voice with almost no echo. The conscious spread in a syllable of anguish, scattered and tender through all the silences. I was the quietest one. The one who lept from earth with no more weapon than a verse. And here, you see me, stars, scattered and tender, with his love in my breast. – Julia DeBurgos