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Too flat to be flung, too far to be feared,
(your eyes a palette of song and wind)
once again we push off before the end.
Can anyone calm a restless rage?
My love rests in warm places, but
the cold creeps up my sleeves.
Oh, I’ll do anything at all…
Where and when we sing again I’ll be standing here bemused.
Why we watch the sky and stars and wait to be moved you know it’s
hard to be down when you’re so confused.
Go grain of thought by way of wind,
down the drain and out the end.
(Rattle Brains you’re absent-minded,
and pulling me apart.)
(we’ll watch the whole place fall in love.)
Oh, I’ll do anything at all.
this was written over a year and a half ago:
Thoughts gnarled branches in the air above our heads.
I toe the water’s edge.
It’s inhumane to be so sane,
crack my head & rinse my brain.
You and yesterday, oh more, more, more
oh forget me not, oh bathroom floor,
collapsed and crying, does it feel like dying?
You’re only good to the last drop.
It leaves me parched.
And I feel so strong I can’t stop,
when fear is what you do, it comes back to you.
Oh dark nights and sun-soaked days!
Would it be unwise to count the ways
through which you make me soft?
Just so long
and long enough.
and i woke up and i woke up and i woke up-
strong winds stroke my sails.
he was wearing a white tutu, and giggling-
artifacts of his adventures strewn across the space,
in straw,
amongst white branches, small trees.
and i wonder, in the face of constant consumption,
how to go about production.
i lost my socks today.
spoke excitedly, was slowly silenced
in curious contemplation.
caffeine trembles and cigarette breath,
these are the days.
these are the days.
and i woke up and i, and,
hung a right at the far star,
came crashing at the rings of some unknown force.
this is inconsequence : this is apathy.
(do you remember waking up and looking forward to the day?)
((((again the fear strikes dissonant chords,
the sound these days is always evil, emotionless, passionless-
it makes me want to scream, or sing))))
fuck these beeps and blips.
fuck these soulless words i read each day.
fuck predictability.
fuck your reality.
(it’s boring)
etcetera.
the rage is all the rage
so be it.
Out on some borderline
Some mark of inbetween
I lay down golden in time
And woke up vanishing
While the thunder held itself at bay I looked around, then ducked inside the sound.
lone is a word I handle with care is a kindness carefully crafted.
is the blank slate behind your eyes just my own reflection?
i am vanishing will it matter in the end?
entropy is the only destination,
these days.
dark cloud lurks especially at sundown,
with the unhinging of the guard.
don’t forget to sleep with your face tilted up for air.
halfway home and a traffic halt-
sun slants through, my whole life grew
in shades and caricatures, in mystic revelations
in beats, in waves.
What’s hungry is buzzing and crackling amongst mindbeans,
torrential dreampours of doom!
can’t hold fast for long,
it will throw you to the wolves.
(et pour toi, et pour moi,
le ciel dans la chambre,
c’est pres de moi.)
lessening the grip on truths and certainties,
we chalk our dreams, chain fast our memories,
and fear will teach you something (and fear will teach you shit).
don’t stay in one place
too long.
Selfhood? Questioning the ego has become a ludicrous endeavor.
As time wears on, the egos around me become more certain in their words, less so in their souls. Some part of me yearns for the days when all was uncertain, fragile, vulnerable. My attempts to reach out with compassion leave me cold and lonely. “You don’t understand me.” Have I lost my empathy?
An undeniable anger simmers beneath the surface. Left alone too long I wrack up my grievances, mourn lost friends, escape in the excitement of learning, shaking as my fingers turn over pages and pages, craft manifestos, connect ideas, concoct escape routes. I am full-throttle journeying through the mind planting dreams and wishes along the way, until the moment in which I have no choice but to push off mad and scheming from this doomed continent.
There is nothing that is like to be. It gets the best of you and me. I will take you there, you’ll see: the heady musk, the jungle air, the furious beat that creeps inside, tears out your soul and tosses it on the ground to be stomped upon with howls and tears and all the love pulsating in the open air. All these notions of what you should be. Everything you thought was true. We’ll rip it out by the roots and rebuild, crumple dichotomies, crumble the skyscrapers and the supermarkets, crush these flimsy notions of identity we currently hold at bay.
Outstretched by the elements of the earth that rage within I collapse, panting and exhausted and exhilerated with eyes bright and wide open, the universe undone and teeming with possibility.
It broke open.
It had broken up long ago, yet hope remained a word laced with meaning, described and comprehended.
I could give it a thousand different names, a dozen shades of detail, sum it up and craft a whole out of equally vague parts, yet the fact remains
that little exists beyond projections oozing from the ego.
that the suffering is the desire is the craving for the hunger for something to enter and create an equally illusory concept called happiness.
that the changing will occur when you are wishing for it least.
that it will hurt.
that it will stagnate.
that it will change again with great velocity and immense unpredictability.
I have been growing like an ingrown hair.
Burned out on the negative energy of hungry ghosts,
my own tapping me on the back of my teeth.
Now sing as delicate creatures of great strength do sing;
warble like a glass doll come to life underwater.
same as it ever was it the weather
that turns the icy heart to liquid trepidation?
i caught you on the fly, it was hard to hold
steady, the sun is ready to scoop you up
in to the crevice where joy is.
linger here long, for i’ve found a way out-
it lies in, inside the pocket where hope is.
don’t you know me by now?
the sun is rising my heart is pounding
fast- love is an ocean and desire but waves.
deep like wine and red,
i can’t tell you what i said
or who did what, where and when.
just the feeling of depth reaching in.
the heart has broken open, cracked free.
and the sun, and the sun…
it got the best of me.
to be comfortable in my skin!
what an exotic concept.
to tune out, tap in,
to pay attention
my heart an extension of mind
my mind an extension of is.
tasteful. playful. full.
this attempt to peel the me off of the we-
it doesn’t work. rather,
a quiet settling in of self
occurs at the onset of sleep.
how your face changes when you turn to me.
did you know, i’ve been unplugged for weeks?
lost in my own mind, but then again,
at least it is my own.
im sick of this fucking sweater.
i want to burn it off my skin,
in fire, or better yet,—
a breath, a steadying.
how i do dearly love the life of night.
—
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
(Robert Frost)
a dream: so real i awoke shaking;
where did i go?
again, i catch my reflection in your face.
a face: more familiar than my own;
love making the anger ebb,
lately, my mind afire with memory.
a memory: that tesmpestuous panic;
a gut-sick feeling,
yes, but this is what we live for.
a life: as changing as the sky;
now pregnant and swollen with storms,
and then, the pouring burst.
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