Thursday, July 26, 2012

Adieu Epiphany

I want to say goodbye to you
like summer does to spring.

I want to wave gracefully, my plumage green to the
soft buds of your departure that have bloomed into
falling petals of an experience not forsaken.

I want to embrace this new season
of silence and distance, like your moon over oceans.
Never saying, never responding
but always ebbing and flowing with eternal wisdom
as life does.

I want to kiss you as the pollen does the wind,
for just enough time to be gently placed in new grounds
and grow another time, greeting you again
as a butterfly does the flower
or the bird does the seed.

I want to say goodbye to you
like summer does to spring,
hatching bird and blooming flower
feather to the sky, pollen to the breeze.

Sunday, July 22, 2012


Everyone is sleeping.

When she awoke, she could sense your second coming before she knew exactly what that meant.

It arrived to her in the form of a letter, which spoke nothing of the unfolding
and unfortunate timing of the crash-collision that would soon after commence. 

The first time was an ancient time, where you found out how to transcend time,
until the morning of the great void
that swallowed you into this existence.

You painted her naked sky in stars,
gas swirling, expanding, new light of collisions
shattering dust into matter of eternal birth and destruction.
She breathed you fractals of golden
songs searching, reaching, echos deeply
inside of idea fundaments of blossoming contemplations and manifestations.

This time was, as everything always is, accidental.
When you sang her song and the earth quaked inside of her,
she felt herself dive in and out
becoming and unbecoming again. 

It beckoned her, after subtle knocks and tiny interruptions,
to explore the corners of your contours,
before its proper time.

Propagating the seed of foreseen, creating the nexus of connection,
is a process which cannot be forced or coerced. The timing has to be perfect. Her investigations
and abrupt withdrawal resulted from remembering your great expansion of light and sound.
She was ready, trying to conceive you with nourishing words, approachings, and gazing lovingly-
the only gifts her earthly body could offer in attempts to awaken your ancient wisdom.

Are you still sleeping?

Can you both go back  now and transcend your time so that you might exist outside
of boundaries and calculations?

Perhaps the growing pain of a long-lost found connectioncut short-lived is the only relic that will remain of the first time
when you crashed into her
absorbing all of you.

Friday, July 13, 2012


I   Realizing

When reality comes,
and like a cold blanket, wraps me in its infinite
understanding that this
is not mine,
this is
and will forever will be it's own,

I grow the brisk awareness that
this experience
is not to keep but to receive.
I am sobered.
Full of gratitude, I
try and participate,
engaging with what may come.

I cannot fake my surrender.

Like music crying,
laughter singing,
naked skin touching skin,
dancing in warm rain,
kissing whenever, wherever,
midnight adventures, knowing that you can have
late mornings after,

or anything worth basking in the receiving of life,
one cannot pretend when relinquish isn't real.

To trick oneself into that thinking
is only cutting a sold soul from growing to fit a mold
of a projected self
rotting from the center.

Resist it and flounder
in temporality fixation.

II   The Truth

Impermanance: We are all so fucking sacred.
I want to reach out
touch it, like the red apple on an autumn afternoon, hold it in my hand,
Smell it, breathe it, eat it, become
full of sweet nectar
and, oh honey don't you understand that I feel it there
feel it in every moment.

And when I tell that you
make me feel
more alive than I had ever wanted to know I could feel...
Like when that sound thrust, color snap, taste note hits your tongue in such a way
that your body is twisting
and my skin is raising white flags of delicious surrender, unfolding its layers until dawn whispers to
breathe in,
and my hair is tossed gently, spiraling over bare neck by hands that caress up from the
swaying hips
to the heavy beat of the
drums drums
and face is turned upwards, eyes

Because if open,
looking up
seeing you
in that void of infinity,

then I forget
and am reborn
to tears of beautiful nothing
that I shed for every nothing
that this feeling is not mine, alone.

And as the waves of warm
bliss wash me back into being,
I grow the brisk awareness that
this experience
is not to keep but to receive
and  give
and receive...

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Back to You

this feeling inside of me, the urge
-to go forwards and grow steady roots,
-to make fire from wet rock shoot out and scream like it was waiting for that exact moment to be heard by you,
-to do it all over, the uncurling, creeping open vines of morning spoons after nights of hide and seek, down the slides, in the playgrounds where I ran, I swung, I turned in,
-to see kaleidoscopes of pink sunset stars crashing into black oblivion back and forth again, breathing like pulses inside the birth of a universe, the birth of a planet, molecule, atom, energy, being-
the feelings that I am,
that feelings that are me

are not available.

in the conundrum
between mind ticking forwards, trying to erase the inevitable
memories pricking, pulling backwards away at walls, shields, spikes and swords
revealing the chaos within:
under the body paralyzing, crippling, crumbling to a halt
towards the call
melting towards

Where does my thought begin? Feelings end 
upscattered in this place I call myself
that I dress and I move
I feed and I keep.
I am here
I feel everywhere else.
I used to mold me
like clay and play
with an idea or a word
that could describe inside, but
aged experience has hollowed and burnt out
and followed me down into
this place.
I do not want to feel
this place.
I do not have armor for
this place.
I do not see light in
this place.

between fighting
mind pulling north and south and
bodily urges to sprint east and west
where I lay in the center trying to hold
all my pieces together from scattering
back to you.

I stretch in pain knowing
will be taller from all this.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

A Word

an indication of
consideration- was required
to move forwards, passing this
stagnant bog of wading.

Side to side off glances
of pushed out mouths and stretched out faces,

inside paces back and back races.

Reaching out for the moment of concrete to hold,
foundation remains
but bare
as drops of laughter  in dreams trickle down its sides
connecting opposites
showing images of
disturbed by it's non reflection:

no word
no response
nothing is silent
and the nothing is strong enough
to place another brick in the unstable foundation
wedging relation with questioning
repose for conceited feignings.