Searching We wake up Searching We reach for our devices Searching We scroll We click We process Picking and choosing Information A haphazard conglomeration of Cultivated lives Authenticity A bendable fading truth Real life It's somewhere out there Not in here.
This is where we landOn the edge of today The cusp of Tomorrow Where hope crashes Against now And thoughts manifest In real time Along the map Of desire Latitudes of beginnings Longitudes of endings No finish line Only circles No score Only love When your feet ache Sit on the earth Let her hold you When you're hungry Eat Then eat again When you're sad Look up Drink something Sparkly When you're tired Sleep Say no Say yes Say Whatever You Damn Well Please; You are alive You can Dance Kiss Throw your arms Around the nearest Beating heart You won't live forever So live Now.
I see so much wrongWith us Does this make me A bad person? Why do I think We are supposed to be Good? What is good? What are we but Crazy Beautiful Infallible Endearing Predictable Operating to uphold Nonsensical beliefs Dismissing signs as Happy happenstances Forgetting the Light-filled person We were born to be Calcified by layers Of lies While the cure Lives within The tender truth Contained in the Seat of the soul Would we rather be Uncomfortable or Unhappy? Are we living Or are we Dying?
Why don't you go fall fly away Leave me on this island
While I drown beneath today
Information like storm clouds
Churning and burning cold
A ceiling between me and source
A cage thick as an eggshell
But strong as gold
Yearning for tomorrow and youth
At once
A paradox of impossibilities
They comes in flashes, the truth
We chip away at suffering
But all of this feels old--
Could we leave it behind
This yearning for our words to be sold?
Without condemning human kind
To a history that does not bear
The privilege of repeating
Nor believes
That a greater power does, in fact, care.
I am source / streaks of sunlight
Whatever makes our hearts beat / I am it
I exist not within boundaries / but around them
I am not the limits of the body / I am Holy Spirit
I quiver beneath the power that I am / but I do not crumble
I focus I fight I flounder / and I rise.
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A leaky faucet of truthtwist the knobs unplug the holes you can try but you can't stop the flow the flood of wisdom slick messes with no mercy. Watch where you step you are breakable like me don't close your eyes denial breeds dis-ease don't hide your heart isolation nurtures depression. Heed the coincidences for they do not exist feel your feelings not the emotional blackmail but the divine guidance the answers resting beneath bone and within blood arteries surging with the essence of your destiny.
I don't know what I'm looking at anymore We try and try and try again
Some days we get better and somedays we get worse
The sky turns pink and we turn away
The rain falls and we call it a nuisance
The night settles and we go to bed
The morning comes and we waste it away
I don't know what I'm doing anymore
Distractions circumnavigate my head
Doubt settles in my bones
Something isn't right
Materialism Pollution Racism
Sugar Alcohol Gossip Magazines
Impatience Dishonesty Power Wars
I want to jump out of bed in the morning
Drink tea Walk in the rain Salute the sun
Kiss my loves Hold my littles Embrace myself
Write Read Move Learn Teach Love
I have a hunch there's more out there
We are like little ants on one sidewalk on one street
Unseeing past the horizon, unaware of the infinite
The country, the planet, the galaxy, the universe
Matter and energy
Vibrating on the frequency of us.
Perhaps we have reached the endForsaken by everything trustworthy Starved by our own prerogative Festering into odious spunk Never mind the shelf life lasts Forever. Our toes point behind us Our fingers point somewhere in The distance, an arabesque into The future, two uneven halves Divided with nothing left for the Now. We mow our grass though It never stops growing, we pay For superfluous insurance just To be safe. We spurn safety For money, we declare war on Life by spraying verdure with Poison, we hedge the present With gold and still moments captured By the lens, immortalized by the Screen, because we matter and Those smiles will someday climax And though we prepare for it, we Will never be ready for it, so what I pray is the point in trying?
Aim, throw, hit
Sharp
Pierces my chest
I shout but I sound like nothing
The walls are sound-proof, eye-proof
And escape-proof
Trapped forever within
Life's longing for itself.
Rolling across blades of grass
I pretend they are tippy tops of trees
And I am God's yellow face
The moon is my best friend
So I ask for the clouds to part
For the answers to crawl out of
Darkness, into somewhere bright
For interpretation.
My arms shield my eyes instead of
My chest which takes the blow
All bone and fragile tissue,
But not even sound-proof glass
Can stop me from seeing
Outside. Where nothing makes sense
Except for our stories and
The sun, but only when it shines.
Written for Trifecta. I tell him before the curtains open. He doesn't flinch.
During intermission, he turns his head as if this limited range of motion requires infinite strength. He looks at me through tinted eyeglasses, and he says, “so you’re rich. You’ve been rich for two years, and you thought it best not to tell me. You let me waste away my life driving that truck until I went near-blind. Is that correct?”
I return his gaze, black glass reflecting black iris. Resentment pressed against aversion like lovers meeting in a kiss, or a blow.
“I’m telling you now.”
He rises, knocking his glass onto the floor with a rogue piece of fleshy hip, my relief as intense as a choir of angels. The lights dim, and I grasp my own wine glass, hollow yet whole, transfixed by the performance and the unfettered existence unfolding at my feet.
Relief relaxes into a giddy, heady, blurry evening. I crush the shards of Leroy’s wine glass with the heel of my boot, and then I introduce myself to the piano player. He lives alone in an apartment downtown, in the top half of a high rise. Before he succumbs to sleep, we share a cigarette and he says I should make myself at home.
I sit, pressed against the cold window, gray plumes curling from my mouth and memories sailing through my head, everything dissolving into the invisible wind that blows on the other side of the thick glass. I memorize the panoramic view, balls of lights piercing the absence of light; I suppose this is all our universe is.
When the sun rises, I do not mourn the end of night, the pastel glow melting the rooftops into one continuous dream. I am ready to start again.
(Adapted from my current manuscript in process.)
