Friday, January 27, 2012

Good Enough

I don't know
and that should be good enough
for you
for now

because I love you
knowing who you are
who you have been
who you want to be
and what that
really means.
I get it.

I know that
the timing
we have shared
is still off
that maybe
our stars were aligned
but this existence
slightly tilted
to project in parallel paths
and that maybe next time
maybe not in this life
we can merge
but now
we just barely...


That sounds so deep and
it scares me
but it is real-
and it is.

I do not create it.

I don't know
and that is good enough
for you
for now

because I love you
and yesterday
because I want to see you
because you are
the most genuine feeling
I can attempt to articulate
in my life

and i hope you feel

and i hope you know
a piece

and i hope you think

I don't know
neither do you
and that is good enough
for us
for now

Pink Ball

You can't force this
it is something that comes
or doesn't

you can help cultivate it
but you alone
are not the creator
it is not about you.

You are only a factor in the equation
and the more you try to manipulate,
your fate will
peel back your skins
leather so thick
rough and tough
until you're a soft pink ball again

breathless and still.

Don't think.
You're too into that membrane
it's a pounding head throb that is caused by your
attempt to control which
traps your soul and
forgets who they were at the end of the day

Pink ball,
where did you envision you life right now anyways?

the other day
i played with white soap bubbles
and made them into a beard
like Walt Whitman
or the photo of a child, in their innocence,
naked in the tub...
and in that moment
where I was throwing tiny white clouds
I realized why I was here

I still am that soft pink ball.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Thought at 1:30 am

we have no choice over who falls in love with us
or who we fall in love with
it's totally random.
and I think that is what may make it so special.
like nature
it's all at random-
but every couple hundred or thousand or million- billion years
there comes a point
when the timing is just right
and stars line up
comets collide
and the molecules caress just enough
to create new galaxies and universes
no matter how great or how small.

that is what i think
if it exists
true love
must feel like.

Sunday, January 22, 2012


It was raining when it stopped me

that feeling one gets
when they know they had crossed a line-

and some lines are not so forgiving.

You see,
are drawn for two reasons:

to create
or to define
(which really are one of the same,
but seen as different approaches.)

When creating,
possibilities are infinite.

From nothing there is something
from blank space there are filled
shadows, poignant angles, subtle curves...

A form
a feeling
a moment
all stem from the growing vines
of our creating mind's line.

When defining,
it's all about boundaries.

This is this
this is not that.
This is not meant to be shared
with that.
are all protected by the fences
of a drawn, defined line.

Lines are not perfect
They have holes
some bigger than others
depending on the invitation
and the fragility of the information behind.

It was raining
when it stopped me,
because I knew then I had crossed
that unperforated line.

My vines grew up and over
they became entangled in your tendrils
against their better judgement
they budded on the other side.

The other side of
that crossed line
has been known for
unfinished forms
protected contents
and conquering
both many words and definitions.

The other side
that I succumbed,
transcending me
I fear
may be a line that

How the meaning and figures
between my vines and your lines
will be drawn is unknown territory-
for both sides now.

It's just that feeling,
which stopped me
from drawing,
is one I knew
there was no turning away from
no controlling-
Because that feeling
that precipice
transforms my lines
into budding rapturous forms that fly.

Sunday, January 15, 2012


I asked you if you were happy
and you tell me
'I don't know what happiness means'

I feel sorry

Not because you don't know what it means,
(we all have our existential questions)
not because I know in that moment
we're over...
No, I feel sorry because
you won't speak to me
to the truth.

I know you're less innocent than you appear
And whatever it is you're hiding

But I won't tell you that.
You're impossible to reach.
I'll just write it here.

I think you're a coward
and I think you're selfish.

I loved you
and wished that
you could have warned me you were frozen
so I wouldn't try fishing
in a silent, vacant lake.

I wished that you could have been more careful with me.

I feel sorry

not because we're over
but because you never allowed it to fully start.

Saturday, January 7, 2012


Your evergreen forests
are exotic.
I wander in them
wondering- how your thought seeds
have grown and hardened
reaching their branches to face the light-and
-how easy it is to lose yourself
in pining over the numerous needles
falling at you like snowflakes.

Your icecaps
are melting.
I dove -in and witnessed the glacial truths
concealed by your silent waters
breaking adrift for you to skate away on-
I discover -in your deep blue caves colliding,
each collected frozen crystal creating
the castles of knowledge you covet.

Your seasons
are stirring.
Below the hard desolate ground of your winter,
I know, in there hiding
are sleeping  flowers
aching to bloom
bursts of love buds and colors
for birds, bees and butterflies
to drink the nectar of your sweet honey.

Let me lay down my blankets of stars
in your black night so that we may connect the dots
and draw images of ourselves before time-
where I am the spider
spinning you
gossamer words,
Hoping to catch you
wandering in my redwood trees.