dream series, raman/a, teacher dying right before our eyes

it's strange having a new kind of dream. witness, we see, the old man stands at a distance before us, facing us, and [decides to die ]

his body fades, greys, almost as if burning, darkening, a strange special effect.

later i'm reminded of a friend i've lost touch with, named after a teacher.

so, then banks. contrast, and mood. hormones and spider stories, and a spaciousness, effortless, still sad, still beautiful.

everything is still beautiful.

microdosing, my love is peace

my love is peace.
my love is peace.
my love is peace.

an exercise in imagination.

as if...

and then what happened?

the empty box.

pee wee hermaneutics. - montouri, 2015

guys, guys

bow to this life

surrender

life comes through you. let it. let it go. you are love. all is healed

who am i

i am sensory awareness

love does

this thing about expanding itself

at first i thought perhaps i had to change or control or hide or constrain my care for people 

to make room for the one who holds my heart

but, going instinctually i find that the more i love and cherish my people, the more my heart grows

and the more i love and cherish my people, the more they love and cherish me back

so that's pretty wow

and

also, furthermore, in consequence... dot dot dot colon i dont know if splaining the consequence is necessary here. i just like words that indicate there is something more

in other words

from the love

i feel like i inhabit you

when i find you in the bed in the morning

i feel your heart beating

the curl of your lip

how it contains galaxies 

and wonder

this sweetness

that infuses everything

like a drop of omnipotent wine spilled in an ocean

love is

love is the way your body feels

when you imagine touch

when you hold your energy in your first chakra

when your lungs expand and fill with breath

love is the way a smile hits your mouth 

and your eyes 

when you remember what

love feels like

the soft rhythm of soul

a beat

listen to my heartbeat*

love is even in the footstep of an angry lover

and the slamming of a door

when colored light fills the sky 

or hits a surface just so

in the brilliance of shell, of wings

flight

love is the heart, tickle 

when the object of love is present, 

a glance, and the muscle

the way a tear drop warms your cheek

it's the wind

leaves rustling

water flowing

the scent of an ocean, rock

in a cocktail decorated with nasturtium

twist ties

glitter, metal, smiley face, laughter, lint, broken glass

the stranger who elicits what you've lost and what you long for

it's the shape of a word, the stroke of a brush on paper, a note held by horn, brass bowl, keyboard, voice

it's birth, acceptance, holding the hand of the dying, forgiveness and allowing what is

*http://youtu.be/o5gcq-ELi-U

skip ad

http://youtu.be/KsMFwnxFv1E

stop. and experience the blessing.

discussion tonight was around how we tend not to stop much to notice. that our minds and our bodies want to do and think and move and distract, from the quiet stillness of our effortless being. without further ado, invite you to stop. put this away, you have permission.

in presence, you are free.

ready for love

india arie

autobiographical facebook criticism

"she was callous with her beauty

and brutal with current events."

a madman drive a truck into a crowd, with a gun drawn. read, madman. the picture showed a flaming eiffel tower. she posted in reply, a picture of a deadly nightshade flower. and her comment was, and in other news...

give me a being to love

my friend from college, we lost touch, but one time she sent a card notifying of the birth of her child, maybe second, and she said 'give me a being to love.'

i just thought that was poignant and beautiful.

there is no time

iwhen are you coming back? she says.

"he fed us words like baby birds. beauty in lines. brightly colored strips of rhymes.

strong calves, tanned flip flopped toes, big petite nose.

oh dad, i remember when you held me close and i could hear your watch go tick tick tick in my ears. and i cried for us, our time, our years.

always trying to prove that he's not toothless. where do we go now that we are ruthless?"

commentary: where does ruth stop and we begin? trick question, as ministers might be prone to do. they are ordained. we change when reverence becomes our way.

when I was young I never thought

http://youtu.be/XzV7FiuDYKo

that I would be living alone and finding Yoko Ono

art, art, and more art

robert larson, my friend from high school
found object collage. all he dedicates himself too, and his wife.

i think i should rename my blog 'the art of self absorption' (unfinished, 2013)

i think i should rename my blog 'the art of self absorption'

but i never doubted i was loved

dream series; cat, elephant oxford comma and super humans

what does it mean to dream quietly of a dog leaning into you lovingly like only dogs can?
what does it mean to dream of a small white dog jumping and biting you?
what does it mean to dream of holding your cat on your lap on top of elephante the stuffed animal your mom got you before you grew out of stuffed animals while your dear ghanaian friend turns into a silver haired super human with silver grey eyes?

as you know, i value the dreamworlds. rich. restful. possible.

*we are creatures of air. out roots in dreams, and clouds. reborn in flight.

good bye.*

*salman rushdie

hey girl!

when the phone no longer provides

map

she holds herself

bodies on consignment 

in the quiet she breathes herself

her hands find letters 

weaving a metal blanket

cold

she maps herself in text

dropping pebbles. 

pulling cards. 

reading the stars.

and the occasional magic existential eight ball.

limited edition.

if you want to, follow her

her words, her visions, her sounds.

her spirit is in written, painted, and sculpted works: tags, love notes: i was here. i was. i am. 

road signs, you might use. 

traffic, cross town; secrets. 

your hands, your words, clues.

light shows, the unknown, still, present.

sex beat, gun club. healing is the only path.

[we] commit to creativity

*******

heard on the street: you got to get responsible!

thank you, street. for the poetry and wisdom and the slang and the connection. redemption song. 

*

i want to travel you, falling in love series, imagined

who are you? and, whose waters have flowed through you, smoothing creases into your skin? how have your crevasses formed? what is the design in this? how has it become, over time, so deep, so rich. the patches of green lush, blue grey, harvests feeding dragon flies and bumble bees?

what does your night sky consist of? why are the planets arranged thusly? what stories are held in your constellations?

where is the map? tell me how to get there. drop bread crumbs, pebbles. i will find my way. i am an explorer.

something beautiful happened today
     i chose a card, it was blank; limitlessness, get out of your own way, trust
and something beautiful happened yesterday
     i allowed my heart to feel; sometimes empty, sometimes flushed, sometimes tight
and something beautiful happened two days before that
     i witnessed pink light, grey sky, like junior high graduation tuxedos,
     i witnessed cloud condensation in the forest, and heard - what was it?
     from the loving arms of the father, shuffling me off after glasses of wine
     [go now, young one, our livers run strong]
     into the loving arms,
     of college radio

and in between those days, sweetness both ways, and vibes, and imagining, remembering, dropping pebbles, bread crumbs.

your eyes are the color of the sea

so real

so imagined

dreams, waking, series, continued

1. drinking a sip of goat's blood, metallic blue like mercury

2. cheetahs, like that tigress, about to attack; panther uninterested on other side of fence in the yard

3. coyote, only not a dream. i, big and small, sensing my own fear, drew in a deep breath, kept my eyes down, disarmed, stood tall as if the coyote was a bear and walked more and more childlike to safety.

4. water. which is your favorite philosopher, and why? lao tsu. observe natural law. which was the one i picked up at elena's with a hard e? hegel? and laughed out loud and the absurdity. i prefer poets generally, or winnie the pooh. we don't pretend to know.

i want to be with you in a warm rainstorm

dust and water

water and dust

did you think i'd leave you here?

http://youtu.be/49P3sSctpic

this is astrology, stars in plastic glowing on the ceiling of your childhood room, and this is the trickle of water flowing in a clear stream, in a sunlit sunken forest

this is the tickle of a blade of grass in the wind 

warm sand under your body

this is birth

creation

i wanted you

what is the soundtrack?

stop following me

desired outcomes, desired results, be here now. needs driven economy. creative intelligence. love. deep economy. the sensual act of smoking: slow drag inhale full, mouth open, hungry. the whisper exhale full, slow, lingering.

it's flacid. #dickpatrol. poetry criticism. zen vs. buddhism, differing in the part about essentially nothing vs. essentially good. i.e zen vs. the board of education. or vice versa. good skit options. hardness vs. softness. really we should all join improv classes. as part of our education, and also, free schooling, and going back to kindergarten to learn non-defensive communication and non violent civil disobedience and growing our own food.

clitoral reconstruction, whole female identity. 

nyeah, no. give them an inch they take a yard. supporting other peoples' foundations. non separate.

sigh.

thought remnants today.