Thursday, April 14, 2016

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. 




*

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

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.




Thursday, April 7, 2016

i want to be with you in a warm rainstorm

dust and water
water and dust

did you think i'd leave you here?


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

cuba

cuba

.

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