newly free
we fear the unknown
we have so much goodness condensed into cans with ribbons tied,
spinning round the silence that is the future unwritten
we are two clowns spellbound circusbound up on our luck and out of the way,
we.

wanderlust wonder me somber.

cracked dreams are roads to change.

suddenly new is somewhat renewed in somewhat a fool;

picture me broken and weary eyed, dusty.

there i am shaven,

whole mouthed wicked eyed red wide ready.

Falling between formalized cracks,
the wealthy and the wounded share the street.

"The highest does not stand without the lowest."
- C.S. Lewis

Full Bodied Love

I teach at a sports school and interact with girls who are at a fragile stage in the "learning to love themselves" journey. This Print Culture article reminded me what kind of body love I want to model to them, and what kind of love I should have myself. Goodness for all ages:

http://www.printculture.com/item-1730.html

Re-working it out

Snap,
Crackle,
Stop.
Beg,
Borrow,
Feel.
Catch
and
Retreat.
Sorry,
Try,
Regain.

Redundancy in Waiting

Small mornings
Bring long winds,
Worry realms,
Irrelevancy.

Repetition
Every one
Turns
Over.

The little one said:
Roll over
And
I could swear,
One
Fell
Off.

Manifesto for the Hidden Ones

Scene 1: Confession Box

This is my confession:

Outside the box, I am unwritten, undone.
You may see me old, a haggard version of the same top,
Still spinning, spinning, whirling till it’s done.
My thumb whorl, my crowd pull, so minimalist
(why exist at all?)

Yet :
I turn, gently growing into age and sense and calm
Losing much
Mourning often
Rejoicing, always,
I turn.

Scene 2: Facebook

My face is not a book,
You see only profile shots.
I am an entity, an ocean, an entire universe
My book will yet become.

Scene 3: Another Paris Hilton

Allusions never work,
For I am exposed,
Freed forward in the regular fashion,
No film to hide behind
I am only an object still masked in subjectivity,
Soul stripped naked, I am on.

straight-faced sincerity means
pretense crumbles.
and with it:
all certainty.


i know You-

no facts,
but You.

Firediveschool: memoryengrained

untitled

Electric love

First try a fire sky.

Electrocution

I watched you burn

Died in embers not mine.

Elocution:

I refuse.

- September 22, 2010

Fish, Out of Water

In the aquariam,
being only ocean traffic,
we were one and held on tight.

I knew you,
soaked in change,
loved in action.

Underwater conglomerations
brought hazardous ends:
Haphazard togetherness
starts with wet theme part kisses
and ends with Starbucks tears.


Dive in!
Immediate fish out of water
Holding on/sucking in
for dear life

I breathe now,
I win.

- May 14, 2010

diminish.

small
miniscule
minor

(this means everything).

little word
change of story
bring down David
silence Socrates
such is pain.

however:
hope.
souvent
l’espérance-

c’est un mot plus grand
qu’on peut comprendre.

les anglais diminuaient
nos rêves avec l’abolition d’espérance :
il n’existe qu’un
replacement
trop petit –

hope.

so much weight
in such small space
stands on hope’s shoulders
but it feels strong
so certain
small
safe.

- Nov. 5, 2009

textile turmoil

the cloth of rough coats makes me shiver
like some do after blackboard rage
hearing nails and slate collide in battle
their ears witness to a war between
physics and human power
who will win?
their ears say no one, i say fate.

in the same way, sans sound
my body takes on the weight of the world
all of its friction
when i am adorned in my coat
and grain against grain
body against arm
frame against frame
develops small bristles on my body
starting at my breast
working outward onto arms
spreading shields of protection
to wage this war of texture

i am certain that this microcosmic
tension since childhood
has given me my sharp sense of good and evil
and the numbness I feel
(one cannot forget the numbness)
after deepest pain and highest joy
for the sharp stabs of agony and bliss
incite similar shivers
and i ignore them for i am confused whether
my body is registering its simple revulsion
for grain against grain
or if it is alarming me of my soul’s celebration
or despair
over inner events taking my body by hostile takeover
one can never be sure.

- March 6, 2007

Grace.

I am Sisyphus,
No further.

High,
Crumbled,
Cycled,
I am
Humbled,
Enslaved.

Fear
Fate
Furies
Form,
Relentless.

Real,
I am
Considered,
No more.

Grace
Nonetheless
Trickles

A downward
Secret,

I steal.

stockholm syndrome

suddenly
slaves
to
red
wine
green
curry
nights
unfolding
before
our
eyes
set to
jazz
never
heard
never
known

no
escape


motion
picture
moments
don’t
recognize
only
rewind,
slow
motion.



presently
live
a life
a line
between


thrill/
no
escape

i taste you
in colour
wonder
where
am i?

Exodus

I AM:

sea stands
all eyes
they sting
bleed me


red sea
leaves me
high dry
see me

apart.

a leader
you push
waters fold
by demand


pass over
fears scream
eyes burn
my heart

your choice
i push
waters fold
we cross

the blood
it folds
we mould
we cross

but first:
go first
be last
i push.

bookends:
the next
big event
being death.

i am
afraid
but
only
for
no snow
in heaven.

will you
seek
my footsteps?

Wait,

Redemption, us all.
It’s getting better:
The toast burning less,
My eyes getting dryer-
Heaven is near
Utility clearer
In time.

a sunrise,
that is all.



morning
chaos
magnified
by
university
student
crises,
everywhere.
i feel them all,
i feel them.


the same

Words
Melting
Loving
Growing
We are
Whole.
So far
From
Finished
But
Shaped,
Set
In gear,
Battle
Being
Only
Daily
Hold,
Stay
Strong.
We:
Warmth
Stay
Calm.

this is going to take a long time.

such love an ocean unfound,
we a sea sponge shirking lungs.
air unwilling, a condition,
our bodies soak ocean, drown.



"We have lingered in the chambers of the sea/Till human voices wake us, and we drown."
- T.S. Eliot

final frosts

Winter dies slowly,
subtle

Water seeps warmly,
sewers swell

The promise of Spring
hides-

Then sudden rush!
Torrential-

Earth soaks water,
sunlight

Sky stops short of sun,
showers.

Final snowstorms
signal urgency

Last second lessons
in swift shifts-

A single tree stands,
rooted

Follicles sensing
fragrance, free

A single tree stands,
alone –

Alive midwinter,
strong.

- February 22, 2010

Junction

Scattered people,
These aunt, dad, son, land
Disconnections
Are loosely connected,
Barely sharing days-

But these moments:

Prodigal sons sharing sentiment on phones
Strangers exchanging stories on a train-

We are won,
Yes we are found,
Family in unfamiliar places.

- December 23, 2009

silent start.

final birthpang:
a lovesimile arrives.

now/notyet order
spirit in an ever apollonian age,
this here constitution once confined now thrives.

she is ready for this press,
the crush beneath before the
weight of physical futures manifests

promises hold tight for timing
(just right)
hope stakes its claim subtly then suddenly
comes on us
like rainstorm in dusk after foggy days

we are won in waiting
rewarded for the fight
freedom reigns, making
fully alive again.

Luke 2:19 "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart."

- December 25, 2009

dance me your self.

We can fight this good fight
without being
porcelain waiting lady
processed plastic soldier.

Woollen children,
we are wild,
otherworldly in an intentionally
haphazard sort of way

(just what i wanted).


Fears of (im)perfection,
yes!
This direction,
or fall?
But the beauty of warmth is listen:

We are already there,
already one in focus,
faltering only in finding
shared rhythm in a dance we know so well.

Teach me your movement
give me your song
send me your message
dance me your self,
fill me.

- December 30, 2009

snow maiden

my mother says I am cynical
but the frost on the trees
tells me otherwise
for I will become a snow maiden
in days
when the white blanket I call home
gently hits the ground.

my mother will be left
shoving doors closed
placing towels in their cracks
keeping out life while I lie barely clothed
swallowing life whole
each flake bringing me into being
and although I am

prone to neurotic moments and
there are times I might say die
(is that cynical?)
I am really just being
honest pure
having union with the earth
the same as with the snow

my mother
less organic
thinks I have no control
letting the world steer me
with its scenes, scenarios and setups
while I fall into disgrace at the tragedy of it all

Nature is not always happy I remind

and I remain in its pattern
trying desperately to find
solace
in flakes and leaves and drops
not to mention certain angles of sunlight
while my mother, good intentions indeed
lives a life of stable, indoor, plastic bliss

die I may tomorrow
when the world crashes into my unhappiness

but cynical, no not I
when I am just doing as
the earth tells me to.

March 27, 2007

Shell Out

backwards drawl
into the stagger
wager
my pager -
bent out into lakes
all right
alright.

no need,
i wrote it
in another lifetime

(i might be a child, run a mile).

but this night
with this soft light
telling me
alright
i am a peace
of ocean rhthym
finally being lines:
cross the finish rhyme
i can shell out
not sell out
for sense of stream exudes
esteems.

- November 22, 2009