Tuesday, June 12, 2012

the Sun is going down.

the Sun is going down
in a house similiar to a Friend's
conversing with a memory
I go out to the Porch
I ask a question the memory a question
Unsatisfied with the response
It’s not here and cannot answer…
atmosphere is strange, clear, lucid… Blue
Something special in the light

Catastrophic.
Beautiful.

The Sun is going down.

Look up.
An explosion.
A rocket.
And the big apple.
An exploding ship.
And the orange sun Sister.
Blue. Twilight. Eclipse.
Don’t look up.

I get off with the memory
It’s answers do not satisfy me
But it’s voice is soft,
Enchanting
Friend you are upset.
Get honest with me.


You prey on people.
Like a hungry dog
You ask your questions
Bombard them with your questions
No time to respond.
Bombard them with intimacy
You have to give them time.
Those programs have made your tongue loose.
You ask your questions
Like a hungry dog
You ask
With no restraint
You prey.

But you must give it time.

Oh! I do?
Oh
It’s like with men
When they get sexual too fast.
You must give it time.

The Sun is down
It’s dark and late.
It’s raining outside.
We can’t talk outside.
Let’s go inside.
By the ice cream
On the couch
Where we can talk
Near the counter
A ticking.

We must give it time.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Duct Tape

On witnessing apparent love:

That one might express this love in anger and frustration.
That the love may be so overwhelming that one might know no other way than to criticize.


That the simple act of silence may convey a hidden truth that one might give a life for another.


While another, in their hurt for the confusion of this criticism and the misunderstanding of a misery of another may also convey a hidden truth of love.


And all this love expressed in the pushing away of another...
[PUSHING TOWARDS ME, A PLACE UNKNOWN]


And how the tenderness of the unconditional truth
may be so sharp as to cut you open...
[WITH WILD EYES OPEN, A PLACE UNKNOWN]

And the fear of its depths may keep you closed...
[THE THINGS THAT KEEP ME, DEPTHS UKNOWN]

And the simple tenderness hidden in one small action...

That one's bag may have split before their travels...
That they may be in danger of losing everything contained in this bag...
Or to put it another way, they may be freed of this weight they carry...


And the parent,
so tenderly,
with love,
without question
Passes the duct tape...


To cover the hole inside.
To cover the hole outside.
To make ones bag stronger...
That they may be better able
To carry what weighs them.


And a man working tirelessly on flight...
Holds the picture of his child by his work.
And the child may never know this and think only of how he was forgotten.


And the woman...
In a seat
In between
[A PLACE UNKNOWN]

Dreaming of the one she has
To be closer
Dreaming of the one she wants
To be closer
[CLOSER TO ME, A PLACE UNKNOWN]

Wishing for the duct tape
That covers the hole inside
That covers the hole outside

To be so tenderly,
With love,
Without question,
Peeled away...
[A WAY TO SEE, A PLACE UNKNOWN]

Saturday, February 25, 2012

The Beauty of Broken Dishes

There is talk about the beauty of broken dishes...
That is what you do when you can't eat anymore...

When I am full...
My plate is empty...

There is talk about the beauty of broken dishes...
holding onto this hot cup full...

It just aches to be poured out...
Onto a bare foot

That way one might walk a bit differently...

And the one above
laughs and observes

and the one inside
laughs and observes

and the one outside
immediately runs toward broken dishes...
holding tightly onto a hot cup full...
That is what you do when aching to be poured out...

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Slowly Gets Closer

the garden down below carries riches
small black birds beneath the basin
fall white snow leaves

shimmer of silver metal
together together

i can't help but modify
breaking even
that's where the tide comes in

closer and closer to my towel
the sun shimmers on the water

and surfers dance and fall
over the glistening mother

holding her mound
like a baseball player

and the small lonesome
fearful of crashing waves

slowly gets closer to fear
until it becomes fun

how come you wait so long
to speak

because I love to feel you kicking first

then I know you want me
to be free

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Eating Past Time

oh past I eat you up

like frozen guava

stilled water

a night of nurture

and spooky fixations

on oh past

at my throat

you lurk with

gripping hands

and softer sensations

alarming me

to a present haste

a present tense

a finer taste

Oh past

Friday, October 14, 2011

Morning Slippers

there came a day when I walked in and out
and the blessings of the wind
carried me further than I had ever imagined
 
It spoke of every crumb that passed into my mouth
and digested its way down
to the belly of fire
within my heart
 
it flamed and wandered so aimlessly
that the whole of my existence
became a 3 dimensional mat
 
and I wondered so hard
of something that was not here 
 
and eventually
 
over time
 
all of a sudden
 
it was here
 
in front of me
 
and I could not hold it
 
or touch it
 
but it touched me regardless
 
and held me regardless

Saturday, September 3, 2011

after midnight princesses:

pine
for a new bed
to turn over
red in passage
of blushing questions
 
a queen sized
beauty rest
plucked
of old stains
& ripe roses
 
it will clear itself
as a new bed
is delivered