"Noun"

As we spoke and I said to you on the phone,
Compatibility isn't the ways in which people are the same, it is the way they fit together. Like Newtons and Kepler.
The planets, whose bodies are astronomical in mass, density and age are by now fixed in there orbit.We in our own lives have come to emulate the planets. A possibly infinite cycle where verses and prose flow easily from one mind to another, for one.
But we as humans are much less massive and our lifespans so much shorter that it would be ludicrous to reflect the orbital paths of bodies whose lives will truly know no end.
Last night after a late night at work. I came home and retrieved a song from my past. With it's nasally tones, idealist chords, hip turning precision and yearning.

In my mind back then everything should have been some version of the feel that that sound gave me.

Do you know what I mean?

How a song or piece of art can become a logos in its own aesthetic way.
Some nouns in life actually do come to pass as if walking from these very doorways.
However rare, when they appear you are instantly smitten, as we were for one another.
Could I spend forever locked in the phase of singularly possessing your unconditional love and devotion? Knowing too that this is only one sliver of the entire fruit. It would be unfair to not pay service to the variety of apples we two have bred and some are indeed truly bad.
In sobriety, a consciousness you and I hover well within,
I have the boldness of spirit to admit that I may regret this.
Losing a protector, a genius,a genuine supporter.
Losing a friend, a sparring buddy, an adviser.
What is there to not regret? Save the fact that we are locked in a prison of our own design .Where aspirations are only half lived so they are never in fact dreams of the nature one designs there lives after but more similar to the real dreams we inhabit, the ones we can only do so while sleeping.
And there is so much to say about sleeping. About finding refuge. About the simplicity of fatigue and the need for love and satiety.
I have unraveled anxieties I have only imagined possible through the benefit of your company. But there is always a but .
Perhaps I should throw it to the wind and take a miscalculated risk. But are we really that easily tempted?Of course.
Perhaps it's my own restlessness or perhaps it's my own star that burns. That is vaporizing time and vaporizing possibilities simultaneously birthing the world.
I hope only to know love.
For some measure that
so far I can say as a victor
I have come to know in light of
you.

When I was a kid, while my parents were involved in their world, me and some other kids were goofing off outside a community center.
It was a sunny Phoenix Arizona day. There was a typical phoenix ally way along the side of the building. One afternoon we kids were just wasting time as we often did. Running around.
Flirting. Red light green light. That kinda imaginative world stuff.
Beside a dumpster there was a sheet spread over something.
We saw flies buzzing around it. We were possessed with curiosity. Some one decided we had to go check it out, may have even been me. There were only a few of us brave enough get close. We found a stick and held our noses slowly we crept up to the sheet and lifted it up.
The sight was so utterly what we hoping on some level it was not as often is the case when you are a child and your imagination has the better of you and just when you cook up a real pot of gold at the end of a rainbow you realize there ain't nothing there.
But a dead dog's rotting corpse lay there. It's eyes were missing. The sight was so jarring we screamed.
And ran away because it was so mortal ,so instinctual, to see death at a young age like that in an unexpected place, without supervision had a guttural effect.
I'll never forget the mixture of pride I had in being brave enough to check it out and the thrill and terror of having assumptions satisfied. There was a running rumor that the neighbors were Asians and ate dogs. We often would see them with all kinds of different dogs but they never lasted for long.

The incredible displeasure of hands pummeling my body like the angered currents of the sea. like a forgotten shipwreck have I allowed certain dischordant recollections to sink to quiet floor of things seemingly irrelevant.

I am dumb?!.numb?!.bitter!.?stunned!?.
Aging &Alone& Restless.
A Victorian Faint.
I do not make sense.
In a l o n g drift of thought
transferred to trace.
I compare my dribble tracings to others and break a small sweat which quickly passes. Like internal blushing .My thermometer turns on itself so acutely. Outperforming any virtual simulation, one could not hide it.
Adrift I love that word. Letting the gray thick coiled up matter in this head of mine be like sea foam. The dinghy that sets out in the bay is knotted to the dock but there is plenty of slack.
Unlike the others' who's seafaring tethers are like shibari, attachment made into art.
It is like a sand mandala. Sometimes I impulsively blow it.Left to watch the twirling pinwheel colors shine and sparkle which like any simple mammal, does please me.
Differing so from the wind that blows, but one with it still, the back hand heavy slap and soft curvaceous, dammable water.
A swim in the right frame of mind is as thoroughly meditative as holding a new born child pacing and bouncing and singing to the heavens, "It is now!".
For whom does one make such statements?
The night is now truly an oncoming love. Whose gait draw a mixture of anxiety and readiness.
I deny that fact as I do so many others while writing into the magic box then on to my magic hot rain egg. Finally relinquishing to my night crawl over to a soft pillowed corner eeking out a balance of coolness and warmth.
Into the echo chamber of darkness and solitude. A winding staircase of voices and faces many strange and unkind.
A night ninja for a night ninja waiting it out for there own peace, making the air too sharp.
In such a tense moment it is easy to make light or heavy of everything.
I am juggling like this all the while.
Thinking deeply on the superficial.
Worrying about not worrying and so on.

I am starting this up again 9/23/11

It's the season I say,
My season in more ways than one.
From the ancient vedic scripts to the definitive moment today when I stopped
to let myself have this life without regrets.
To live free of regrets is like diving without an oxygen tank.
You realize, oh yeah I may not make it back...
Should I go check out that wild peachy coral maze? Or briskly fly back to my comfort?
Can I find a random air bubble? Perhaps inside a whale or tortoise belch?
Speaking of such age old beauties, the rubbery, flubbery, mother ship whale and
the ancient, jet packed, slow yet steady tortoise
-OR how about those slickery, fierce, one and only Porpoises ahhhhhhh???
Let me tell you,
those haunting eyes hit me, like staring at your mother sobbing.
as if discovered in a magical cove of mythic design
a moment of ordinary oneness.

November 12-23d 2010

Upon flight in my migration to other temperate zones i witness a memory.
We go you see, we clump onto trees in large masses making branches turn into drooping orange arms.

but upon this gliding fluttering air swept journey i recall a time when i had been immersed in the grit, volcanic woody, sooty, moistened, endless brown of the earth.
I was once so plain, singular, lonely even.
with many means to take only small and squirming steps forward. none the less these steps i did indeed take and i took them with as much dignity as i could.

the chrysalis that became
seemed my inevitable construct
as a final adieu to my old friends and foes.
to my old habits, my old likes
one gauzy overlay after another.
i thought " i must be dying"
feelings and thoughts grew less and less frequent.
all the world took a pale shade of ghost through the eyes i no longer have
all there was, was fading
in the cocoon.


as with most grand occasions it began with a feast
by devouring the very life flesh of all that had sustained me, i mustered the strength to fly.
In my flight i could reconnect with the beauty of my secret name.
The shy, quiet breeze was kind.
The faceless mother finally set me free.

From above reborn were the shapes of things, the taste of food and the company of others.
Enlivened like a bolt of lightening cracked in an open field
what a gift
i thought,
a fleeting,
silent,
seemingly effortless
grace.

November 26th 2010 : A time for every sort of change

The hands clapped together
The wine glasses ding
I searched for someone familiar
I found some new and some old.

Read it in the cards
heard it on the radio
Porchlights stayed on for the darkness
Broken alarm clock sounded in the slumbering.

A memory burst stronger
than the moment itself was
bringing a mixture of longing and letting
stirring both sorrow and peace.