April 30, 2017 § Leave a comment
The joys of Sunday are like Wednesday for some. Monday for others. The joy of Sunday.
Every other day’s the same. Sun up moon down. Arguments and loving words none. Or some days words again: one and arguments are none. The joys of Sunday.
Is it the coolness of the evening or the sweating Tuesdays as the dew builds between your legs? The joy of Sunday’s all the same to Thursday or Saturday. The joys of Sunday stays the same.
Tamarind, strawberries or coconut milk sweet. Plastic wrappers and the thin thin wood stick. The joys of Sunday.
February 2, 2017 § Leave a comment
woke up with crumbs. from Felicitas, the holidays, yesterday’s bbq, Rosie. scattered everywhere between Star Wars sheets, the pieces hard rock, tiny granulated feelings. how long between cotton, silk, heavy and feathery warmth and sweat. how long?
handcuffed by a dream to let go. afraid of everything and nothing. posturing for help. left ambiguous, alone in the sand. granulated rock again. crumbs scattered by time, wind, pain and guilt hidden by small talk and the same stories told over and over, blanketing nostalgia
suffocating any true feelings. so long ago.
&, still, all that’s left are crumbs. translation lost in the murmurings. the tiny murusas speaking in tongues back to Tayoltita, Tijuana, black and white memories walking in stripes, her hand ’round my back, her secret signal whistling as we look straight ahead, a seer and apprentice through tiny modulated pieces.
November 27, 2016 § Leave a comment
Giants fight, swinging at clouds.
Molecular holes pierce through blue
body punches and upper cuts at once.
What sounds will wince as cars and buses,
under the weight of falling body.
Underground words by rail or chant
cross country to protectors and
protesters, Shaman and trickster.
Wizarding worlds of fictitious futures
stuck in their past, unable to remain in
the present for more than a soundbite.
This is the what is of now we see,
the way of social solitude and global
individualism, as we all share alone.
October 8, 2016 § Leave a comment
Can’t sleep sometimes. Maelstrom thoughts. Breathe. Darkness to a tiny glob of light sliding down my chest. From my toes up to my legs, back up. Left shoulder, right. Still can’t sleep. 3 or 6 more times.
20 minutes later I get up and walk outside. A beautiful early morning darkness. Stars lined-up, pointing to eternity. Constellation to constellation. Ancient Greek heroines and magical beasts pose and charge. Their breath touches me. The coolness tickles my skin.
Breathe. Walk under the ficus, listen to the music of quietest day when most are still asleep. Maybe not. Maybe they can’t sleep, either. The lock has opened. Another deep breath: deeper.
Go back inside. Something woke you, brought you back from restlessness. Back to now. Back to being. Back to living life.
September 19, 2016 § Leave a comment
93 degrees. Beenie and plugs server. Nice guy. After a few words made me feel grateful to have been given the privilege of living in the 21st Century where pretentiousness and disingenuousness are more and more scorned by more and more people. His boss should give him a raise. Not just for better than average customer service, but for treating people as people should.
The gap between age and status feels like it is shrinking at this particular moment. The Internet’s pulling globalization, forcing reality to speak to those not ready to listen in 1999. There are no coincidences.
More and more the signs of a changed world appear in my everyday.
August 3, 2016 § Leave a comment
Caught myself twice today. An insignificant lack of awareness. Have seen it for years. Two times in one day. Caught myself viscerally. Could of hit a mother and her baby in a stroller, smashed into that white truck because I didn’t turn my head as I swerved out of that lot. First time, first time it’s made me thankful to have noticed. Thankful for being aware. First time I see this life altering humanity not just in others.
July 23, 2016 § Leave a comment
Time has stopped still. Thought this phenomenon was gone from my over educated world view. And all from a dream.
It has been decades.
The truck full with people: strangers, men, women, family. My passions and fears within the dream symbolically. Who am I comes with morning analysis. Where am I the deconstructed plot. Asking others for help. The police, truck driver, a beautiful accented young woman after expaining her slangy patois with a laugh. All cinematically stylized. Ethereally lit. No one could help. Had to figure it out alone.
Lost, moving forward non dream like, investigating. Traffic, filmshoots closing streets. The end lost. No fear felt, no anxiety caused, just the reappearing self in a soft palette world.
Time has stopped just like when I was a kid on summer vacation. Just like now. Being replaced by doing is the magic. Total acceptance of time and place and living. It’s great to have this power back. Why now? Doesn’t matter. Glad to feel like a kid. Appreciative of being allowed a return. Hope I can stay here a long time.