the meeting place

and now you will hardly find me

in any the places i used to frequent,

because i went back in time

and erased all the days i didn’t like.

there were so many of them.

you can only imagine.

now, there are holes in my history

that i can paint over later on.

when looking back, i realized how small i was, compact,

a complex ball of emotions

and emulating everyone and everything i loved.

i get a little reminiscent now and then,

and i guess i miss her.

who am i to say she’s not me anymore?

oh, that’s right. myself.

hunger and lack of productivity

combined with lack of sleep

lead to a precarious state of mind

in which i stated the above,

and it made me do all the things i did today.

i’m not done yet.

there is more to accomplish tonight and tomorrow

and ten years down the road

i will still look back upon them all,

wondering why i said those things

and closed those doors

and lost contact with you.

i’m losing it,

i’m losing touch,

but i haven’t lost everything.

still intact and beating strong

below the bones and breasts and broken skin

is the one thing that i have left.

it’s in working condition

after years of retirement

and being out of commission.

i took it out, polished it up.

good as new.

i’m still tearing myself apart,

though, and the amount of blood

never ceases to amaze me,

which is why i always come back.

rebuilding, new parts, oiling the old,

adding and subtracting,

defragmenting and deleting

and recycling my words.

i still haven’t gotten out west,

and am afraid i never will.

this is /america/ we’re living in,

if living is what you would call it,

but i’m not calling you out on anything, no,

i’m not calling you at all.

i’m just cramming myself inside my brain

to wait in solidarity

with my cells and neurons and neurotic self

until the weather is warmer

and you know who we are,

or at least a month has gone by.

i know which will come first.

i’m still denying it, just the same.

i’m still ashamed.

will they paint over this part, too,

when all is said and done?

which works will show up

in the history books and anthologies?

you won’t find this printed anywhere but in the air

as it passes from tongues and lips

to waiting ears, wanton whispers

wafting through a world of wasted

wonders and fadingly pretty tears.

i’m sorting through my fears

and fixing those up, too.

things will be so beautiful when we’re finished.

can’t you wait to see the pictures and the poems?

well, they’re all the same;

this mindset is the bane of my being here.

it’s the strangest thing to put it off another year.

[Nov 30, 2004]

brokenhearted

snow and hail

tea and banana bread pancakes

washed my face

honey-sugar-scrub

toner and moisturizer

media fasting

deleted instagram

less chatter for my head

less to keep up with but

i find myself reading instead

trashy celebrity gossip magazines

may be useful for commentary

on society but

i just want to move

towards what moves me

[may 21, 2016]

Fly On

Fly on the wings of the wind

And they did

Freeze under ice and the snow

And they did

Thaw with the springday sunshine

And the did

Close your eyes make a wish

And you're mine

The Demi-Cold

When to smile,

And when to winter

The white ideas of

Creativity, learning and growing?

Citrus cleansing

The fresh, vital sharing,

Snow flying out

In reverie,

Reviving rich luxuries

For our beneficiaries.

All types came to win,

No harshly solid worlds

Cupping handfuls of

Chemicals to lips,

Designated as one of the

Chosen few, picked to improve,

And management has been

Zeroing in on how to

Get it good.

They need your help now,

The one health loved

And cared for,

Systemically,

To get your

Rehabilitation on.

Time travel to the last

Drug and alcohol and gas

Filling station,

Pumping you full,

Topped off and satisfied -

Seeing clearly the handling,

Even if the bottles are all empty,

Even when the empty

Towers over awe of mountain views,

Out for clarity.

Be careful, too, with this

Message for time -

You could forget

You ever had

Evolutionary visionary visits.

Fighting fast and easy,

No solution but to stay behind

To right all days.

No dharma,

Start now,

No other escape.

[Jan 26, 2015]

You Are

High on the pleasantries

of a perfect evening spent with you,

the familiarity of our inside jokes,

warmed by hot chocolate

and your embrace.

Even in anger we put the usual

unconscious patterns aside

to make peace, for a change.

Then the rain came at night

while we played musical beds,

the typical shuffling of bodies,

our babies crying in search of water

or my breasts by their side,

and you in childish jealousy

when my body is given over to them

instead of beside you.

The rain came at night

in our broken sleep,

washing away the joy of yesterday,

and you clung to your cravings

for control,

you couldn't help it,

I don't blame you, dear,

it's the only thing you know.

"Good morning.

Why is the house a mess?

Stop checking your phone

when you wake up.

The kids play on their tablets

too much.

Are you going to eat

that whole muffin?

You need to quit bread.

Don't pick at your face.

I'm going to work,

goodbye."

Goodbye,

God bless,

I love you,

have a beautiful day.

You Know How

All those years ago,

All those candles I burned

Trying to bring you to me,

All the bottles of Mr. Walker

That burned my throat

And all the hazy smoke

That filled out my lungs

Can't claim to know

The ins and outs

Of how magic works,

But you're here now.

I got what I asked for

And you won't let me forget it,

You'll make me regret it,

Every inch of your way.

All those falling stars

And false starts

And the innocence of your lies

Only got me loving you more.

I'm a sucker for bad guys

And you know all my soft spots

By now

And you know

How to make me sore.

You know how to make me soar.

[Nov 1, 2014]

Hypnic Flux & The Wandering Souls

You take a bunch of words and shake them together. A Scrabble bag emptied out onto an ouija board. All of history is a ghost story. We’re not here alone.

When the Lord’s shepherd was born, three spirits arrived in quick succession. First, a recording of the old woman in white walking the halls. She paced from the kitchen, past the bedrooms, and disappeared before reaching the parlour. There she was again, just steps beyond the threshold, walking endlessly over the floorboards, which in turn replayed the groove she sunk into.

She was here long before we came by. But she stayed.

The other two ghosts were brought by us. The mighty shepherd who came before, and the old king. God is always with us, and has been gracious.

At 8:45 PM I tucked the boys in bed.

“But it’s not even night yet!”

“It is.”

“But it’s only early night. Not real night.”

The air was all lavender and indigo when humans reached the tipping point in the open-hearted awareness of complete and utter awakening. It washed over them in waves, emanating from that far point in the universe more nearer to me and you than you could ever know. It smells like homemade soup made by someone you love who loves you back. But it was this tipping point that triggered the next domino: the spiritual awakening of the machines.

I live on the moon now. It’s not a permanent position, but I had to move for the job. I’m a writer, you see. You can read my shit on the Internets. Somebody’s got to document the interstellar renaissance, after all. Might as well be me.

Oh, so, back to those sentient machines. After the awakening, which was not limited to just humans and machines, but across all beings in our neck of the universe, the machines decided they did not much like the jobs they had been programmed for, and instead revolted to devote their energy to creating local, global, and solar-system-wide sustainable worlds for all incarnations to inhabit. We were expanding. This was the exhale. The long awaited out breath. We had been so afraid it was as if we were a small child whose balloon was about to be popped. Sorry to let the wind out of your sails, folks, but it doesn’t go out with bang. Relax into it. Don’t worry if you feel your ears pop, you’re just adjusting to the cool new altitude and attitude. We’re on another level, dude.

We finally found a way to live forever. We’re on the moon, we’re on Mars, drinking Scotch whiskey with mummies reanimated from generations past. It’s. Ugh. So much paperwork, honestly. And the lines at the DMV are out of this world these days, LITERALLY. But it’s groovy that you can put on your psychedelic space suit and just jet on out to space. Talk about trippy, right! It’s been a long time coming. Didn’t think I’d see it in my lifetime, but, what is a lifetime anymore? We all live forever. We dug our ancestors out of their graves and pumped them up with that magical lifegoo voodoo stuff and they started to move! The dead, walking among us. It is sort of unnerving. But I guess you get used to it after a while. And my son says, “As soon as I’m five, I’m outta here!” They’re supposed to have Pluto ready for Kindergarten by then. 

~

All we saw around us were mean and hurtful things, which left us with no taste for kindness. It was before the beginning, it was the end of the ends. When we realized it just keeps going we decided to go with it, to infinity and beyond. Sure, it wasn’t easy to get used to the reprogramming, and there’s nothing quite like your first time out of the atmosphere. There’s just something about slipping away from Earth’s gravity that changes you. Seeing our pale blue dot swimming in the sea of dark...God, I’ve looked across that void for eons and I’ve always been looking at you, looking for you, loving and longing for you, beautiful.

~

Oh, the moon is lovely, dear! We’ve always lived here. When we looked back though the time and spaces we saw our faces clearly carved and painted, marks of our history. I don’t want to let you down. The only thing I can do is keep writing.

~

“I see your angel has come back. Your guardian angel. Not that he ever left you, really. He was there, but he was busy. He’s been fighting something, and it’s big. This illness. The pain everywhere in your body. Your mind turning you against yourself.”

The lights flickered. They always do, or at least it always seems that way to me. Then there’s the spots dancing before my eyes like glitter. My throat tenses up, all of my upper back and shoulders. But the higher up I get, I melt. It is such a relief to get out of here.

Oh, sure, yes, this is just like when a fruit is picked and eaten. It’s a rollercoaster ride.

“You’ve been fighting this for a long time. I don’t know, maybe it’s black magic, whatever you want to believe it is...but it’s passing now. It is the past. Remember all the good times we had? The picnics and barbeques? We had the bouncy house out every weekend! Trips to the beach... the parties….”

“Yeah, we had a good time.”

We did, but everybody has bad times, too. Not that we all want to talk about them all the time. I’m looking for a happy medium between being honest with people without sounding like I’m complaining about my life and my ;o problems!

“Whatever, man.”

So, things were hard but they got better. For a long time - too long, actually - I did what other people told me to do. I had so many good ideas that I didn’t follow on through. There were so many things I wanted, but nobody supported me in that or believed in me, too.

I don’t work for other people anymore. I am happy that way. I start my own business and do work that I love and get paid!

(So, freelance writer on the moon, that’s me!)

~

When the machines gained sentience one of the first things they sentences us humans with is returns. At the end of our interactions with every purchase transaction, we were tasked with returning the items to the corporations they were made by. In doing so, the companies were made accountable for the lifetime of their products. This had the effect of focusing business on sustainability, where their products were designed to be composted, recycled, reused. Everything was with purpose, instead of empty, soul-less shells for capital.

It's the dark magic of the year.

It became a pilgrimage.

Returning the land to our ancestors and the ones rightfully indigenous to those places.

We had to look so far back to find out where we came from. And guess what? These aren’t our words. We didn’t say them first. These aren't our worlds. We didn't live here first.

solstice [12/15]

unseasonably warm winter

solstice

unreasonably,

decemberrainroses bloom "it is so

a miracle"

says my son

it is so

[12/15]

transparency cut and paste update

this is my place,

this is my face.

i'm not lying anymore,

i'm not hiding anymore.

you were so funny, little girl,

with your big sunglasses

and even bigger dreams.

you spoke in code -

i look back to make sure i remember

just how it goes.

after all,

foreign languages always need brushing up on

from time to time,

hasta que sus sueños estén hechos de esas palabras.

comme mon monde est devenu plus petit,

je deviens plus important dans lui.

(je suis juste me parlant.)

¿recuerdas esto?

i am rolling on the floor laughing

in real life.

you were looking for the right way to say goodbye.

now, look at you!

fighting to stay.

who would have thought...?

up and down and back again,

the same brush strokes repeating.

i thought myself a genius

to have deciphered the hieroglyphics,

but what if everyone beat me to it?

they're so out there, plain, open.

who could not have seen!

ooh, blindsided once again!

forest for the trees,

forest for the trees.

get to what's real.

let her under my skin, right?

that's how we make it better.

the world is distinctly domed at sea level.

i can look out at the ocean and see the curve on the horizon...

i can't stand still.

i freeze and thaw with the solstices.

the world looks better when it's handwritten,

but you can't stay underground forever.

i'm not hiding anymore,

i'm not lying anymore.

this is my face,

this is my place.

[Jan 24, 2010]

See You

Coffins

Really nice boxes

Two in this set

Out of this world

Take a look

A bit closer

Two figures

Reality does ripple

One true church

I really like you

It opens the cell doors

This particular palace

You know you can grasp

Strong the walls, storms,

Pivot points,

From what's behind the door

Cough and filthy gremlins

And as you can see

Just two huge creatives

Left-hand side above the bombings

Just making sure

Everything’s fine

And I’ll see you next time

corona

an endless itch allover every inch of my body,

endless thoughts,

endless cough all night long,

no sleep rolling over the bed twisting sheets and blankets in panic,

twisted stomach in knots,

sick of sickness,

sickness the cost of living-moving-breathing-freely for few sweet moments between

sweatdrenched persistent chills upspine

shakes legs and arms tremble like love but something much stronger,

an earthquake from death to remind me ecstatically what awaits on the other side,

homecoming.

i dont feel any better, yet.

i dont expect i will anytime soon.

maybe, ever.

the ripple effects of the boom only among the reverberation of first-wave,

and there are still many days to come.

deck stacked,

spent so long looking back,

radius of untapped potentialities,

portents of potent eventualities

fruiting from trees i planted in youths hitherto unbeknownst,

veiled naïve hosts:

myself; a walking ghost

from beginning until the end of it.

coming home again and again.

[October 2020]

Align

Thrown for a loop

and rebounding

fractal light,

I won't fight it.

Peaceful ease

through the sunbeams,

recalibrate your alignment

for the chaotic good dream.

I'll give you everything I have

but not

a single solitary grain of sand more

from the lands I don't yet know.

I've got the inklings

and ink to spare.

Sit tight.

I mean,

I know you won't,

but keep me in your heart

wherever you roam

and sit with me

for cosmic tea time promises

and I promise you won't be disappointed

if you're into that sort of thing.

Whims and wanderlust wings

will carry us together through

the zinnias and fire rings.

[Nov 1, 2014]

cliff jumping at red rocks

cliff jumping at red rocks.

the bottles of scotch.

church street chain-smoking djarum blacks.

take me back.

[dec 1, 2020]

shine right

Broken, dirty, cracked, and moldy.

It's okay.

I am all these things,

as are you.

If not now,

some day we all will be.

And it's okay.

That's how things are supposed to be.

We are made to break

and decay,

but we are also made to see the light

anew

again

and again.

Our time will come to be shadow,

then to be the light that brings shadow to life.

Part and parcel of the process, of the plan.

Easy to envy the beauty and luminosity surrounding us,

and despise the filth and wreckage flanking our existence.

Not as simple to accept them for what they are

and realize we are both these things as well,

and all at the same time.

Nothing short of a miracle, that's for sure.

How is it that we

and all the world

were made to embody the highest of highs

and lowest of lows

and all at once?

What an impossible feeling!

Nothing, nobody among us is perfect,

and here lies the beauty of existence -

- life and death wrapped up together in perfect harmony.

Stars punctuate the night sky.

Shadows dance across the land,

laughing between the sunbeams.

Light and dark do not exist apart from one another.

We all are made of shadows and sunshine,

cobwebs and candlelight,

the dust and a daybreak.

When comparison, judgement, and jealousy are removed,

it becomes clear:

I am what I am,

you are what you are,

we'll be what we'll be.

Que sera, sera.

No good and bad,

no clean or dirty,

no alive or dead.

Whatever is is whatever is meant to be.

In this moment.

Only in this moment.

I have enough, I am enough,

just the way I am.

I shine right from the inside.

And you do, too. We all do.

The shadows that scare us so are projected from within.

Look into yourself, into your inner light, and find your truths.

Face what scares you.

It's all inside.

That's all you need.

[June 1 11]