Shadow

the darkest of shadows sits with me
here in the confines of my personal space
we are not friends yet we are friendly
we have tea together and discuss the finer points
of free will, love and justice.

once he bids me to shed them
he catches my tears and pours them into a vase
where these black flowers bloom
letter by letter, sentiment by wailing sentiment.

and me without a match to set them ablaze.

I Choose the Stars

I know that we parted when we were so young,
And I imagined your ascent into your mountains
Where your path led you from me
And way up there in your now faraway land
The stars they shined all night, and fell to earth one by one
And you loved them perhaps as much as me
And in their constancy you found life, the joy of it
So, like the light in your eyes that I once had found
To know that it gleems and sparkles to this day
How we can bring into old age the most
Beautiful memories, yes wisdom as well,
But most importantly what gives us
The will to dream in the first place.
Like you, now I must ascend my mountain
Because we can choose to bring that will with us
Or to dream it into our old age and
Live rather than die, alone or together.
However stands the rook of chance
We can choose to stay upon that mountain
And dare to love the stars for all our days

Perspective

i find that if i look out my window

i see what is there to see
i find that if i close my eyes
i see what is eternity

i find that if i touch your body
i feel what is so deep inside of me
i find that if i let you enter me
i feel what is infinity

One Shot

Wow, once in a lifetime something happens that makes you see your world in a whole new light.  I wonder if what i'm seeing now is the truth?  Can I trust my own eyes and believe what I'm seeing?  I don't want to believe, but the evidence is overwhelming.  I'm forced to find some solace in what I have not yet manifested, and the leap of faith that I'm prepared to take will send me flying across 6 states, 22 years and 1 eternity.

Water

Water is a living thing that I bonded to/with long ago.  Rain is water that comes to me.  It's totaly free and yet it has only one path.  Its cleansing, life giving, disturbing, like hail it clears the way for something new.  it can caress me, sting me, drown me, or buoy me up .  It is energy in liquid form.  If I stand at the water's edge, the waves crest and reach up to meet me.  They always have, like water sprites trying to splash me.  If I stand out in the rain, I let myself go and they bless me with their full caress.  It is ancient and it is tomorrow, it will never die.

Now in the water's storm, cloud to ground lightening burning my retinas.  Visibility is lousy, thunder is raging somewhere in Mississippi.  The very air is electric.  I'm torn between concern and demand, writhe and regret.

Unconditional

My breath is caught and my chest rises.  My back tenses and my arms ask permission
to push away to catch my fall.  I'm still breathing, it's only a moment in a time, a small catch in the hem
and I go about my day as if all were as it should be.

My vision is blurred and I shy from the decisions I know I am alone to make.  I slip deep into the midnight shadow and close the door behind me.  In the dark, I find a liar's solace.  There I account my deeds, my needs, my view upon the world.  I struggle to remain still, I ask my soul to forgive.

All this just to utter the words, just to allow myself to be.  And so the saying goes, do what's important not what's easy, especially when no one is looking.  I will venture down the path laid before me, I will measure my steps.  All this just to love you, just to know that I am loved.

Clio

the flame that burns too high burns out too fast

the statue of the goddess in some generous pose
dedicates herself to the protection of the memory of mankind
to recording the names of the fallen heroes who served her
cold in the night and pale in the morning sun
generations pass her never knowing her name
her pitiless task holding her still while the rain washes her slowly away

Clarification: a Conversation about one thing

The trick to forgiving is not to forget
But to trust someone to be exactly who they are

The trick to understanding the past
is not in the unfolding, but in the hindsight
Not to put too fine a point on it...

Magickal mystical mythical that was never more than smoke
Perhaps the greatest con on the weakest kind,
No great deed ever found him whole

And he'll never appreciate how
I used him to mask my grief
Which made us quite a pair, unstable, insatiable, unforgiveable

I have no want or need of his devotion
I seek only the strength to look him in the eye
and be unmoved by him

The will to silently pass him by
Without another glance

Because events of late have begun to resemble
That twisted twist of fate
I will need that resolve to weather the next few storms.

canyon dawn

one small kiss on the back of your neck
a warm shiver and you squeeze me tight
keep me close to your chest
where i can rest
and press myself into you
and breathe deep the last moments of sleep
before dawn breaks the mirror
and the light comes charging in

Good Morning

Musical recalibration, the same deep water
But a new lease on it

I knelt to my knees to worship you
and took the same deep breath, again

And I was much of what I was
When I was young

And my kiss became my own, again
Mine and mine alone

Johnny Come Lately

Tell me please, when does this get old?  Rescuing me like this.  Showing up when least expected and having just the right thing to say, just the right mix of emotion and distance.  I looked between the mattress and the floor and I faced my fears unaided.  But in my weakness now, I allow the outside aide, acquiesce to your version of me.  When do I not just open up like a naive flower each time that magick dust of memory and muse is scattered in the air above me? 

Regret won't find me until tomorrow.  For now at least, I am safe from him.

Third Eye

The dream came true. I listen to her song, and
Her voice is my soul in mid air.
Honey I’ve gone away. I’ve gone away.

I should be ashamed of myself for this reverie.

But I just want to sit here and love to hate you.
To remember how your mouth tasted when it mingled with mine.
Those weren’t kisses. They were life itself.
They were oxygen and blood all together in fascinating motion.
They were energy with form and function.

It’s as if we should’ve celebrated the ability to achieve
Such human perfection, to preserve it wholly and to keep it sacred.
That was no ordinary place where we found ourselves,
And from where we fell so hard.
But, it’s gone and no one else knows the way there.

Your silence punishes me, and yet it gives me healing time.
How unfair and yet how wonderful that I could see
What was to be our reality even as it was forming

Rubber-banded into the future to foresee such awful place.
Perhaps the powers that be wanted me to know
That I really didn’t know hell, even though I accused them of leaving me there.

So be it.

My apologies are made, my amends restored.
You have no quarrel with me that you do not invent.
And it is so like you to invent such things.
It cures the boredom, I know. It stops the endlessness,
At least for a moment and gives you an anchor to the here and now.

Otherwise, like a kite, you’d be floating off into outer space,
You would forget even your own language if your mouth were closed too long.
You would enjoy watching us from afar. Remembering with me.
You would recall the half- sunken ship outside our window
And how we knew that to be an omen, but how we pressed on.

You would remember the spiritual prostitute who took pity on you.
You would again say my name with affection,

if you were certain that I couldn’t hear you. In that I would find peace.

Missed opportunities are like old woolen blankets.  We wallow around in them because they are well worn, well known and they even smell like us.  They feel familiar and safe, those things that we hold against ourselves the longest - scratchy on the surface, but always the right temperature for self indulgence.   Just perfect for that false sense of security.

Slow Gin

Slow gin
Water down
the memory
Remember

Fit the pieces
two today
One tomorrow
Slow years

Hold the hand
that held you
Listen with
Deaf ears

Slow heal
Water down
the lies
Rationalize

Slow tears
bring
a slow city smile.

Journal Entry: March 14 (year unknown)

Night falls.  I struggle to remain in focus as the dark sheet threatens to enfold me.  I let my mind wander and see the darkest silver luxuries I stand without all around me.  Those are the memories we haven't made.  You.  I want what I need.  I seek to end the starvation.  I play only at night now and never not alone.  My spine still tingles when your name rings and my heart beats hard as I dial.  Let me go or come back and never leave.  I don't remember what hurt so bad, or why it was so easy to forget.  What I know is that I'm starving for you, like food, only smoother.  I guess you'd throw away my letters, you'd ignore my calls.  And all I do is make you run?  Do you or don't you?  I'm starting to think not anymore.  Will you come to your senses?  Is it possible to have real love and then have it yanked away?  No.  Because if this were real, you would not be so good at leaving...

Rain

I feel the rain


Shining on my neck

Shimmering on my breasts

Wetting my hair

Clinging cool

Sultry

I hear the rain

Delicate poundings

Puddles with patterns

Rattling the panes

I know the rain

It echoes from your ears

To mine

From miles away

Sweet, unexpected rain

Yatahey

Your absence weighs heavy on my heart, thought I had mastered it's avoidance.  I miss our talks, the companionship.  The reality that you are gone settles in like a heavy fog.  It is not unlike the Seattle Mist, shrouding the mountains I never climbed.  Will anyone ever know me as you did?  Will anyone ever try?

Journal Entry: 7-10 Sept 1997

Today another funeral.  Sunday at Jackson Square, a few ashes scattered.  The bone hard reality of our source and matter graphically understood.  Thunderbird calls to mind.  Dressed like a tourist, little white cotton tennis shoes and white ankle socks.  Heart as black as night, and determined to complete my silent task in broad daylight.  No one the wiser.

Wednesday at the beach, words and tabacco to Wakan Tanka, in honor.  Sandpiper, Crane, Dragonfly, Spirit Visitors and Silas all in attendance.  I knew this would be the roster, the place.  The time was unclear, but the rhythm was right.  Chant and peace smoke as offerings and a quiet goodbye...

He said Te Amo for you, but I heard you in my heart.  He did not know that you spoke through him.  And I will never ever tell him so.

Coffee and Ice Cream

I remember as though it were yesterday, but in fact it was 22 years ago.  And oh, how the years of awkward discomfort that stacked between us seemed to melt away as we sat face to face at a two top in the lounge of the local Hilton, a generic quartet lovingly piping soft jazz into the atmosphere.  It was 5pm and the place was empty save for the two of us and the suited man who'd missed his flight, staring off into space and tapping the handle on the suitcase beside his chair.  The ice was melting in his scotch, and it clinked against the glass.  Couples holding hands strolled through the big airy lounge half open to the lobby half closed to the outside world.  For just an hour, we breathed the same air, believing only in each other, our coffee and chocolate ice cream.  He was strange to me on the outside, but in his eyes, I could see the man that was my father.  His eyes pleaded with me to see beyond the weakened body and join him again at my little tea party in front of the Christmas Tree, sipping imaginary tea and eating imaginary cookies.  That was our moment.  All the things that daddy loved in one room all at once.  I felt my stubborn pride slip away as he reached out for forgiveness. That was the last I had felt him smile.  I never knew such relief could be found at the mere sight a closed casket.  Now I am free to just remember that smile.

Ghosts

two rats did scurry along the dock
the moon it shone in time
the stars fell like flurries
with great expectation we
parted the curtains
looked out the window
we tried to see our future
but all we found was darkness
and the half sunk ship

Choice Wine

will it be fine blood wine to coat my throat
and be sweet upon my lips,
or will it be vinegar, and all for naught
The cold glass against my skin uncrushable,
green and corked at the apex,
my fingers drape the nape of its neck
toying with the supple wax seal
Leave it on the shelf perhaps another 7 years
or seize it, let it ravage me, let the wave crest

the greatest pleasure is in that moment just before
the wine takes its own first breath
and then I find the bottom of the bottle my cell

The Addict

Stone cold, like a soldier I wait all day For the sun to shine
But I know it’s the rain That makes me happy

Yeah how hard it’s comin’ down thunder's rolling, load the dice
I’m up for one more round

Can I make it right this time I need to mean it I need to be alright

I wanna remember The memories we never made I want to believe
We didn’t know the drill, now

Set me up, baby I’m falling down
I’ll spend it on me This time

I know I’ll hear the warning, I’ll have myself to blame
For losing the game

I wanna remember The memories we never made I want to believe
We didn’t know the drill, now

Set me up, baby

I’m falling down

Pesky patience

Today appears to be about order and chaos.  I'm in the stream flowing between these two forces of nature.  Peaceful, calm.  Resting.  Eventually, but without regularity or warning, that which I need will and come to this place for will drop from one phase or the other and slip into the stream with me.  My purpose is two fold: patience and scarring.  Each time I strip another layer of myself in order to interact with john q public on these ever more intimate levels demanded of me by my profession - it sears my outer shell and toughens my shield at the same time making it thinner, warping it.  Before long it may be as in times before, when I could lay my belly bare to the world and trust that a wolf was hovering nearby, out of site, and ready to defend my soft sensitive parts from the scavengers.  Because in those times it was not that I could really see my visions or know my destiny, it was because I gave so much of me to a notion that he would save me from myself, so scavengers? nah, they were small time...now they are the bane of my existence.

What's NEXT?

Maybe you don't, maybe you do, but I hate living my life in neutral.  Forces of nature are pushing this way and that, we act occasionally but mostly we react.  We rearrange, reiterate, readjust.  Remember.  Occasionally we run into someone with whom we had something in common - oh, years and years ago - and we marvel how far and how fast they have come into their own.  Like somehow they are more real than you because they are seemingly more successful or more famous.  We wonder why now we are so far apart on the spectrum of opinion and lifestyle, when we seemed to be so alike as young ones.  Now as grown-ups, life doesn't taste as sweet unless we create it ourselves.  We have to make choices, find time between reactions to make the next move, carve the next groove.  In a moment, a split second, we work our wills for better or worse, we make our mistakes, we loose everything and gain more than we ever thought possible.  Such drama.  "BE HERE NOW" and but most people can't.  The next thing is already forcing them on to the next breath.  They can't just stay in the moment.  Most people can't live like that.  So we marvel at the people who can't stay inside the lines.  Good for them.