May 22, 2018 § Leave a comment

Visiting my oracle, my little book. Reminding myself of what I already know. Getting out of my own way so I can sleep again.

Back to the beginning of things. The way they’ve always been. Dormant for a few years is all. The earth cracking for the sleeping giant.

It’s not much different: by degrees, millimeters, maybe less. Things are already as they should be. Acceptance and patience.

The patterns to be broken take time. Realizing they are there sets the motion toward the caffeinated sutra.

“Things are not as you think, nor are they otherwise” swims on the daily wave to years of birthdays and anniversaries.

It’s the same now. Let the melody lead to where it takes you. Rising and falling the beautiful harmony has dissonance and sweetness.


If Heaven Exists

March 4, 2018 § Leave a comment

Sat down at the bar. The only empty stool was at the far end next to the servers’ station. The management had iconized the word “focus” onto the screen saver so if I turned my head and looked down the exposed brickwork I could follow the slowly bouncing subtle push of the once-called suits (now more likely bearded and tattooed thirty-somethings). The way the word caromed off the sides of the 15 inch screen reminded me of the classic black and white Pong.

Hanging from the low ceiling a few feet from my head a long row of tulip glasses lined toward the the crowded street out front where I’d walked in about an hour ago. The bar was almost empty now (the Happy Hour rush gone). As soon as I noticed the upside down tulips I saw my mother. We were talking about something she was excited about. Not remembering what the excitement was about makes me nostalgic in the sense that I see my little kid self and my mother still alive. How would the present be different if she had seen me live older than she did? I want to know why she had forgotten my age while we were talking and she realized I wasn’t old enough to be at a bar and said, You know how the glasses hang upside down at the bar right by your head? I didn’t. I do now, though. My mother’s story ended there.

Maybe she was about to make a joke. Probably not. I don’t remember her ever making me laugh. I was a taciturn kid. My brother’s the jokester. Even now with multiple visits to the dialysis center the nurses can’t believe how everything is a joke with him. Amputations, cancer, diabetes. Life is meant be enjoyed no matter what, he’d say.

Doesn’t really matter what my mother was thinking all those years ago. I remember it now. Don’t even remember what she was wearing or where we were. I don’t know how old I was or if I had had a good or bad day. She was excited is all that matters as I wait for my “small plate” to come to the counter. The imprinted feeling of I hope you are okay if heaven exists. If it doesn’t I hope you felt how much I loved you even though we didn’t talk much after a certain age. After melody and harmony, sex, & victimized assumption crept in and took over. I know that a few more years would have lifted us to a blissful place, but I know now (as I feel you did ‘Ama) that we don’t decide these things. That thinking that we have control of our lives is a lie. We make choices, yes. Other’s are made for us and we have no say. And that’s okay. I don’t need goals or set levels of societal norms to feel alive, be happy, enjoy this improvised flow we call living.

Just like sitting here now: wasn’t planned. Had an appointment so I came early to fight traffic a bit. Once here my phone told me the appointment was next Thursday the 8th not today the 1st. A few years ago I would have walked up ready and someone would have apologetically said something like, Sorry Sir you are expected a week from now, and then I’d of walked off embarrassed probably. I had no control over why I got my dates confused. I could have checked my phone before leaving instead of leaving early. That didn’t happen. This did. I’m here now.

And everything turned out okay, didn’t it?

Found Poem +

August 14, 2017 § Leave a comment

as the orthodoxy spews and preaches its decades old knowledge I go back to the instinctual. the infamous “they” ask me to put on a tie and coat I amble unshaven in shorts to where I want to go, huaraches slapping on concrete.

I just look and stare, take the pills they prescribe: “you’ll feel better.” nights of pain and thoughts of suicide scare me awake. on my back adjusting to darkness and slivered light and moon shadows, then deep appreciation of what I have lived. sitting up, legs dangling into black I hear Rosie breathing, Tristan gaming, Aidan studying a film. I see Jonas reading trends as they spike and drop in his office, the glare off the laptop onto his face reflecting on his glasses in reds and green blips.

before long I think back to childhood, music, words, movies. back to unorthodoxy. herbs and shaman cure scenes, charms and salves, teas from British bands and coffee wraps tight on my feet as a shivering fever kept me awake like now. My mother always there, sitting in the dark. I always got better. placebo or not, I always got better. I will get better again. It is in my story, my tri-cultural build, my homegrown optimism, my being. it’s who I tell myself I am. & until this fragile shell returns to it’s mysterious beginnings I will keep it up and not give in.

The Joys of Sunday

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.

Blog-Thought: Unlocking

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.


Thank You

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.

Summer Travelling 

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.

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