New York I Love You
New York, I love you. You make me want to smoke cigarettes and drink coffee, shoot heroin and listen to Lou Reed. You make me feel innocent and wise within a breath. You rock me in my grunge and indulge me in my glamour. You make me want to walk for miles and stay up till dawn. You are happy to run into me at Barneys for lunch, and you are happy to stumble into me at Katz’s at 3am. You are always open for me, no matter what hour and you always got whatever it is that I am looking for.
I love you in the fall when the leaves are turning, the winds are blowing and Halloween is yes, so, so close. I love you in the winter when a sudden snowstorm brings you to a stand still, but I still walk and occasionally lie down in the snow on a deserted sidewalk and pretend I am a snow angel. I love you in the spring when tulips bloom in the middle of Park Avenue and lovers are more numerous than cats. And I love you in the summer when nights are sticky and warm like days and we take the Q train to Coney Island and ride the archaic Cyclone.
You stink of garbage and you house a billion rats, you are too busy, too loud and dirty and it's impossible to see the stars at night. But you have a pulse that adds a spring to my step and inspires the blood in my veins to run more purposefully. You inspire me to be inspired and you always treat me like you care. You allied me with the most significant people in my life. You raised me and schooled me. You slapped me and pampered me. You fed me the most exquisite food. You shopped me into style. You got me drunk and high for the first time. I gave you my virginity. My mother is buried in your soil.
And then your people, I adore your people. They are strong and real and no they may not smile at you for no reason but when they do smile it brightens up your entire month. The friendships I forged on your streets are some of the most enduring and passionate. I trust you and I trust your people. And I trust your unpredictability and your easy spontaneity. You are always up for surprise and keen on an adventure. And you are always sassy, sexy, cool, funny, mysterious, alluring. I could go on an on because you absolutely rock and you rock my world. I am so proud to call you my hometown.
I love you in the fall when the leaves are turning, the winds are blowing and Halloween is yes, so, so close. I love you in the winter when a sudden snowstorm brings you to a stand still, but I still walk and occasionally lie down in the snow on a deserted sidewalk and pretend I am a snow angel. I love you in the spring when tulips bloom in the middle of Park Avenue and lovers are more numerous than cats. And I love you in the summer when nights are sticky and warm like days and we take the Q train to Coney Island and ride the archaic Cyclone.
You stink of garbage and you house a billion rats, you are too busy, too loud and dirty and it's impossible to see the stars at night. But you have a pulse that adds a spring to my step and inspires the blood in my veins to run more purposefully. You inspire me to be inspired and you always treat me like you care. You allied me with the most significant people in my life. You raised me and schooled me. You slapped me and pampered me. You fed me the most exquisite food. You shopped me into style. You got me drunk and high for the first time. I gave you my virginity. My mother is buried in your soil.
And then your people, I adore your people. They are strong and real and no they may not smile at you for no reason but when they do smile it brightens up your entire month. The friendships I forged on your streets are some of the most enduring and passionate. I trust you and I trust your people. And I trust your unpredictability and your easy spontaneity. You are always up for surprise and keen on an adventure. And you are always sassy, sexy, cool, funny, mysterious, alluring. I could go on an on because you absolutely rock and you rock my world. I am so proud to call you my hometown.
I
I wish I could show you what the air in the golden gate park smells like after you have lost everything. Because it smells like the ocean and pines and damp roots and mist. And it smells like dawn and dreams and blueberries and moss. It smells like sun peeking through the tall trees. And like fog and egret cries and footprints of the one you love. It smells like innocence and grief and denial and hope. And like you would spend forever in that park waiting for him to come walking back. The steady simple walk, relaxed eyes. You could spend forever and you do but he doesn’t come back. Because he is gone. Because the bus driver didn’t see him. Because 87 bones broke in his body. Because they tried to do everything they could to save him…
But you don’t believe them because this kind of love does not die. Because it cannot. Because if it did, the stars would die and the music would die and purple would die and magenta too. Innocence would die and butterflies in the stomach would die and the day you knew that you didn’t belong to your father, your history, your ancestry, the world. That day, the day when you were simply a creature, alive, that day would die. And it cannot die because that day is all I’ve got.
And I wish I could show you what alive feels like in my skin. Because it feels like music and electricity and rain and shimmering pavement. It feels like big, really big, infinite, invincible. It feels like wind and secrets and never needing to sleep. It feels like love that doesn’t need lovers. And good wine and coffee and a song that streams through you and into him and he knows and you know and the shooting star knows and nothing else will ever matter again.
I wish I could share with you what I know of death. And I’ve only stood on the precipice so my view is limited, but from what I‘ve seen it is so big out there and so damn beautiful, and it is essential, because it drives life because it is life, just a little more vivid, more immediate, more naked. More right here, right now. Less dicking around, more truth. More freedom, a bigger space to forgive to love to look into another’s eyes for once without your own shadow in the way and to see, really see them as they are and to be blown away and be blown open and be brought to your knees by this breathtaking human grace reflecting back at you. And in that very moment you must let go …
But you don’t believe them because this kind of love does not die. Because it cannot. Because if it did, the stars would die and the music would die and purple would die and magenta too. Innocence would die and butterflies in the stomach would die and the day you knew that you didn’t belong to your father, your history, your ancestry, the world. That day, the day when you were simply a creature, alive, that day would die. And it cannot die because that day is all I’ve got.
And I wish I could show you what alive feels like in my skin. Because it feels like music and electricity and rain and shimmering pavement. It feels like big, really big, infinite, invincible. It feels like wind and secrets and never needing to sleep. It feels like love that doesn’t need lovers. And good wine and coffee and a song that streams through you and into him and he knows and you know and the shooting star knows and nothing else will ever matter again.
I wish I could share with you what I know of death. And I’ve only stood on the precipice so my view is limited, but from what I‘ve seen it is so big out there and so damn beautiful, and it is essential, because it drives life because it is life, just a little more vivid, more immediate, more naked. More right here, right now. Less dicking around, more truth. More freedom, a bigger space to forgive to love to look into another’s eyes for once without your own shadow in the way and to see, really see them as they are and to be blown away and be blown open and be brought to your knees by this breathtaking human grace reflecting back at you. And in that very moment you must let go …
Unzip Me
Unzip me
So you don’t have to get misled by my hair and skin and intimidating words that you don’t understand
Unzip me
So you can see that im only a matter of cells and blood and eternity
Like you
Unzip me
So that I don’t have to work so hard to love you. So you don’t have to work so hard to love me
Unzip me
Start at the top, draw a line down the middle of my forehead, down my nose and across my lips, down the chin, the neck, the breastbone. Keep drawing, down to my belly button and through my pubic bone.
Now go back to the top, add a slider and little pull tub.
Take hold.
Yes you can, there are no rules.
Start pulling. Keep going keep going down my face, past my neck, down the breastbone and belly and all the way down.
Now pull the sides apart.
Yes you can.
What do you see?
Nothing?
Everything?
What do you see?
Blood, flesh, forests, galaxies, confusion, black holes?
Do you see that we are all the same?
Do you see that our identities are a joke?
Sometimes funny but sometimes… cruel.
Unzip me
I long for you and you long for me but we don’t know how to say I love you, because we look different.
Because your jeans are fancier than mine.
Because you are prettier than me, because im wiser than you.
What a joke.
Unzip me.
Are my flesh my blood my bones any wiser than yours?
Is your longing for origins, for solace for equilibrium any prettier than mine?
We are all fragments of one godhead, one oversoul, one origin.
Unzip me!
We are all just fractions of one cell, a division seven billion strong and counting. Fighting over who got here first and who should have more and who deserves love and whose truth is the truth….
But there is only one truth and It doesn’t exist.
We all got here together and together we remain until always, until forever until wow….
The river turns back and retracts its steps back to the before the before the before. And then there is nothing,
Unzip me.
Welcome to nirvana,
Unzip me.
There is no more you or I
Unzip me.
There is no more us and we can’t live through it!
So start slow…. Unzip me. …
So you don’t have to get misled by my hair and skin and intimidating words that you don’t understand
Unzip me
So you can see that im only a matter of cells and blood and eternity
Like you
Unzip me
So that I don’t have to work so hard to love you. So you don’t have to work so hard to love me
Unzip me
Start at the top, draw a line down the middle of my forehead, down my nose and across my lips, down the chin, the neck, the breastbone. Keep drawing, down to my belly button and through my pubic bone.
Now go back to the top, add a slider and little pull tub.
Take hold.
Yes you can, there are no rules.
Start pulling. Keep going keep going down my face, past my neck, down the breastbone and belly and all the way down.
Now pull the sides apart.
Yes you can.
What do you see?
Nothing?
Everything?
What do you see?
Blood, flesh, forests, galaxies, confusion, black holes?
Do you see that we are all the same?
Do you see that our identities are a joke?
Sometimes funny but sometimes… cruel.
Unzip me
I long for you and you long for me but we don’t know how to say I love you, because we look different.
Because your jeans are fancier than mine.
Because you are prettier than me, because im wiser than you.
What a joke.
Unzip me.
Are my flesh my blood my bones any wiser than yours?
Is your longing for origins, for solace for equilibrium any prettier than mine?
We are all fragments of one godhead, one oversoul, one origin.
Unzip me!
We are all just fractions of one cell, a division seven billion strong and counting. Fighting over who got here first and who should have more and who deserves love and whose truth is the truth….
But there is only one truth and It doesn’t exist.
We all got here together and together we remain until always, until forever until wow….
The river turns back and retracts its steps back to the before the before the before. And then there is nothing,
Unzip me.
Welcome to nirvana,
Unzip me.
There is no more you or I
Unzip me.
There is no more us and we can’t live through it!
So start slow…. Unzip me. …
Cells That Don't Yet Have Names
Beguiling permutations are shimmering in the lilac seafoam while phosphorescence of life spirals outward then in again. The darkness and closeness unwind the lips of intimacy that breathe in the howling wind. The butterfly is flapping its wings and grandiose seas rise in the neighboring galaxy. We are innocent by default, a reflected sentilla of the spiritual reality of the transcendental object at the end of time. Everyone one of us a particularized piece of this reality into which we are being dissolved. I'm going back to my roots. To the green jungles and the damp earth. To the volcanic prairies that stretch into the melancholy forever and hide the exuberant secrets of dreams to come. We are sitting here at the edge of the world. ‘Dreaming awake at the end of time’. The fairy tales that have called us to here resonate within the parts of our cells that don't yet have names. The spaces between the atoms, the cracks between worlds. We are following the currents of destiny being pulled along by the mystical strands of concrescence. We are called to gather around the vestal fire under the dome of uncountable stars to listen to the voice that will shape our unfolding for the remaining days of our existence within the confines of the flesh. I will never be this in love again. In love with grass and eyes and colors and ideas. In love with the shallow water and endless possibilities. In love with this bud on the verge of blooming into exotic flower. These hands that will hold me forever. This voice that will keep calling me forth till I no longer subsist on breath. These eyes that will be my mirrors of eternal love and theses stars that will absorb my tears and smear them as streaks of light across the black sky. I don't know where I come from, I don't know where I'm going exactly but I know that everything is astonishing. The universe on its surface is alive with mystery. How do we get inside it? That is a question that will never let me rest and I bow at the feet of those who have provoked and seduced and spirited me forth towards the unknowable towards the unspeakable towards the abyss of my own annihilation. So I can at last stand naked and exulted and one with the Gaian spirit of this planet and of all existence and know the answer to every question with the parts of my cells that don’t yet have names.
till you make it to nirvana
life scares me up close
pains and fears
sit at my throat
demanding answers and resolutions
I dive into the murky depths
scouring silty sand for clues
and orginis
momentary soultions
I find little things and other things
a treasure box full of rubies and ribbons
a silk green scarf
sheets of vivaldi
history books and maps
faces and places
discarded masks
broken horizons
etc
friends turned enemies turned lovers
riches turned poor turned prayer
glory turned dust turned tulips
I find regal iguanas sunning on hot black rocks guarding ancient ruins
I find lust and tenderness and soft blue sea
I find my mother washing my diapers by hand in a teal plastic tub. Winter. Alone.
I find my father roaming the world looking for antidotes to self-loathing.
he sells his soul to the devil and with the money he buys a house with a tall tall fence to keep out those who might tell him he is a worthless piece of shit.
just like they told his father and his father’s father
but the fence isn’t tall enough
the poison is already in his blood
I find my tears and then I find my wings
I find jungles and emerald tablets with love etchings
I find queen panther and somebody who cares
I don’t think I deserve it but he cares anyways
and the trees in the forest whisper
Forgive the rest
Everything is in balance
Be patient
Be still
then I surface
my throat free to breathe
and I forgive my life for a moment
maybe a few days
then the madness begins again
cyclical is the nature of being.
at least until you make it to nirvana they say
pains and fears
sit at my throat
demanding answers and resolutions
I dive into the murky depths
scouring silty sand for clues
and orginis
momentary soultions
I find little things and other things
a treasure box full of rubies and ribbons
a silk green scarf
sheets of vivaldi
history books and maps
faces and places
discarded masks
broken horizons
etc
friends turned enemies turned lovers
riches turned poor turned prayer
glory turned dust turned tulips
I find regal iguanas sunning on hot black rocks guarding ancient ruins
I find lust and tenderness and soft blue sea
I find my mother washing my diapers by hand in a teal plastic tub. Winter. Alone.
I find my father roaming the world looking for antidotes to self-loathing.
he sells his soul to the devil and with the money he buys a house with a tall tall fence to keep out those who might tell him he is a worthless piece of shit.
just like they told his father and his father’s father
but the fence isn’t tall enough
the poison is already in his blood
I find my tears and then I find my wings
I find jungles and emerald tablets with love etchings
I find queen panther and somebody who cares
I don’t think I deserve it but he cares anyways
and the trees in the forest whisper
Forgive the rest
Everything is in balance
Be patient
Be still
then I surface
my throat free to breathe
and I forgive my life for a moment
maybe a few days
then the madness begins again
cyclical is the nature of being.
at least until you make it to nirvana they say
The True, The Good And The Beautiful
Mirror mirror on the wall I just want to know that I exist. I just want to know I am true good and beautiful. And every time I look at you I see ugly, I see lies I see bad. And sometimes I see nothing, that’s the scariest. When the rain hits the window at certain angle I still believe this movie will end well. Must be a feeling from long ago because I can’t explain it. But this kind of rain makes me feel like I belong inside this life, not an outsider, not yet expelled from paradise. When did I get expelled? Mother. Mean. Harsh. Loving. Then dead. Father. A stranger. A friend. Controlling. Desperate. Then dead. Husband. Wow. Wow. Wow. Then dead. Me. watching the rain drops on the window. Making music. Me watching raindrops on the window. Home. Safe. Me watching raindrops on the window. Home. Lonely. Watching raindrops on the window. Scared. Forgotten. Watching raindrops on the window. Poetry. It goes like this. Life. It just goes. Valleys and green fog and dreams. Long drives through the icy mountains. Alone. Blissful. Vancouver. More poetry. A boy with a moon shaped face. Me throwing up in despair. Maybe if I’m really sick he wont leave. He does anyway. But first the paramedics come. Take me away. I think he comes with. I think we escape from the hospital. He leaves the next day. Disappears into the fog. More poetry. Los Angeles. Rock star love. Different story. Different life. Still full of future. Of young blood. Of hope. Not praying yet. Not on my knees anyways. Not that it matters. The body is the body. The prayer is in the soap bubbles. And how they shimmer and pop. The rain keeps coming for me, tapping its Morse code messages on all the windows of my life. Hey girl cheer up it’s gonna be ok. Sometimes I’m not sure I believe it. There have been so many dead ends, so many roads leading to pain. But I come around; there is nothing else to believe. After all the rain is the still only mirror that shows me I exist. And sometimes it even shows me that I am true and good and beautiful.
I Belong With The Angels
I keep checking. Waiting for an e-mail from god, am I? Maybe. I don't know. But I keep checking. And waiting. Checking and waiting and hoping and white sheets is what I want to feel on my skin. White, perfectly serene, soft, crisp sheets. Ocean breathing through my hair. Beguiling. I give up. I give in falling aimlessly. Ground doesn't belong to my feet but this twilight can hear my whispers. And it is listening. Why? Why would anyone? Why would anything want to listen? I'm nothing. But why do my words stir your tears. I see the sincerity in your naked chest. I believe you. For a moment I believe you because you are speaking truth that I too have spoken and I am alive and so grateful for your tears. You are not disowning me for my mistakes. Is that true? Am I safe even if I make a mistake? Because I will make a mistake, again and again. I will make a million mistakes over a lifetime and that's almost unbearable. Because you could take away your love if I'm wrong. Can you hear the cranes at dawn piercing the sky with their incantations? Fleeting silhouettes of the shadow theater. The sky shimmers lilac and I know that in this crisp wet air is written my destiny. Ephemeral, not even. Ungraspable. No not that. Essential. It is essential and I recognize its steady hum in all things. It speaks to me through the cracks in autumn pavement, through the dirty grey snow that melts into spring puddles and smiles at me via my own reflection. Freckles belong to spring. Innocence too. Innocence belongs to all things. I belong with those cranes and I belong with my people and I belong with the music that snakes its way through my veins and heats up my blood and explodes into a howl in my throat. The howl turns to cry, a cry to a melody, at first broken and speckled with uncertainty but there is enough benevolence in these invisible eyes to turn rocks into water. And I don’t stand a chance. Eventfully the melody will emanate despite me through and me despite me again. Pure. So pure, the angels are crying. And I belong with the angels….
The Moments That Shape Us
What is it like to neither enjoy nor not enjoy an experience? Just to have it, without any opinion about it. It happened to me today. It was so peaceful.
The clouds are moving so fast. Where are they going? They look free. Freedom is fleeting and moves fast. Enticing.
The light from the screen irritates my eyes, irritates my mind. I turn it off and try to sleep, but some thoughts are not ready to sleep.
The rain is pretty and it smells good. So very very good. Sweet and pungent and fresh. I love the smell of rain. My stepfather used to say that my nose was made for rainy days. It curled up so the raindrops could linger in the little indentation instead of running straight down my face and into my mouth the way it happened for him with his long, straight nose.
He was a good man. My mother didn’t see it. I’m a lot like my mother.
I'm pushing against an invisible wall. It is thick. I feel stuck or is it sticky. Gum. Florescent pink, stuck to a stranger’s shoe. Strawberry flavor. My favorite.
My father bought me a pair of tall white shoes and they were so cool. They didn’t make shoes like that where I grew up. And those kids were so mean, they kept running up to me and stepping on them, to make them dirty, to make me dirty. I laughed with them but inside I cried. I felt so helpless in the face of their lust for destruction. I didn’t understand. I never had the urge to step on anybody’s shoes. Not back then anyways. I was so proud of my shoes. My papa, my real papa, brought them for me all the way from America and I so wanted to wear them to school to show the kids what cool shoes they were, and what cool papa I had. But they didn’t see it. They just saw a girl who had more than they had so they tried to level it. They stepped on my shoes and they stepped on my heart. And I never felt like I belonged with them again.
These moments they shape us, everything shapes us, our mothers womb our fathers hands, how much we walk on grass, how much on concrete, how much rain falls upon our faces and whether our noses are strait or curled up. It all shapes us.
The clouds are moving so fast. Where are they going? They look free. Freedom is fleeting and moves fast. Enticing.
The light from the screen irritates my eyes, irritates my mind. I turn it off and try to sleep, but some thoughts are not ready to sleep.
The rain is pretty and it smells good. So very very good. Sweet and pungent and fresh. I love the smell of rain. My stepfather used to say that my nose was made for rainy days. It curled up so the raindrops could linger in the little indentation instead of running straight down my face and into my mouth the way it happened for him with his long, straight nose.
He was a good man. My mother didn’t see it. I’m a lot like my mother.
I'm pushing against an invisible wall. It is thick. I feel stuck or is it sticky. Gum. Florescent pink, stuck to a stranger’s shoe. Strawberry flavor. My favorite.
My father bought me a pair of tall white shoes and they were so cool. They didn’t make shoes like that where I grew up. And those kids were so mean, they kept running up to me and stepping on them, to make them dirty, to make me dirty. I laughed with them but inside I cried. I felt so helpless in the face of their lust for destruction. I didn’t understand. I never had the urge to step on anybody’s shoes. Not back then anyways. I was so proud of my shoes. My papa, my real papa, brought them for me all the way from America and I so wanted to wear them to school to show the kids what cool shoes they were, and what cool papa I had. But they didn’t see it. They just saw a girl who had more than they had so they tried to level it. They stepped on my shoes and they stepped on my heart. And I never felt like I belonged with them again.
These moments they shape us, everything shapes us, our mothers womb our fathers hands, how much we walk on grass, how much on concrete, how much rain falls upon our faces and whether our noses are strait or curled up. It all shapes us.
I Take After My Mother
I take after my mother
when she told you to fuck yourself you were sure as hell that she meant it
and when she embraced you, you melted
when she rejected, you were good for nothin’
but if she loved you, she loved forever and then some
I take after my mother
she marched to the beat of her own gypsy tambourine
and she did it with style and valor
she spoke in tongues and understood things that are essential
she got slapped by the wind and occasionally people
she offended and she annoyed
but she laughed a lot and her laugh was sincere and disarming
I take after my mother
she was not afraid to be a fool
especially in the matters of love
and most of it she considered to be a matter of love
and she knew pain but carried on
and shared her gifts wherever she went
she defied conventions and drew her own lines
in the sand
and when the waves came to lick clean the shore
she cheered and drank her wine
I take after my mother
she was cruel and she was kind
she was hard and so incredibly soft
she was ugly and real
beautiful and human
she brought men to their knees but didn't know what to do with them
she made women jealous but they couldn’t resist her candor
she didn’t talk baby talk to children but they always sat on her lap
she didn't like cats but they preferred to purr at her feet
I take after my mother
she was an ordinary girl
making sense of living
she got angry and she got sad
and she stumbled and did embarrassing things
she lived and she died
but she was true to her essence and didn't mind the rain
and she always she knew life was short
so she danced deeply
when she told you to fuck yourself you were sure as hell that she meant it
and when she embraced you, you melted
when she rejected, you were good for nothin’
but if she loved you, she loved forever and then some
I take after my mother
she marched to the beat of her own gypsy tambourine
and she did it with style and valor
she spoke in tongues and understood things that are essential
she got slapped by the wind and occasionally people
she offended and she annoyed
but she laughed a lot and her laugh was sincere and disarming
I take after my mother
she was not afraid to be a fool
especially in the matters of love
and most of it she considered to be a matter of love
and she knew pain but carried on
and shared her gifts wherever she went
she defied conventions and drew her own lines
in the sand
and when the waves came to lick clean the shore
she cheered and drank her wine
I take after my mother
she was cruel and she was kind
she was hard and so incredibly soft
she was ugly and real
beautiful and human
she brought men to their knees but didn't know what to do with them
she made women jealous but they couldn’t resist her candor
she didn’t talk baby talk to children but they always sat on her lap
she didn't like cats but they preferred to purr at her feet
I take after my mother
she was an ordinary girl
making sense of living
she got angry and she got sad
and she stumbled and did embarrassing things
she lived and she died
but she was true to her essence and didn't mind the rain
and she always she knew life was short
so she danced deeply
Then I Will Believe You
use me
take me
hold me
break me
Yes…. Yes! .... Yes!
I'm here to serve
and I am here to protect the wild fires of life that burn without lies
I am here to shake wildly
and break barriers
and smash fallacies
and get naked and get raw
and be truth and be Yes
and be brilliant and shine
and ask a million
questions
and im here and to understand patterns
and to build bridges between heaven and earth,
head and feet
human and angel.
and I'm here to respect plants and love animals
while making you dizzy with my purple hair and my wild dances
and I move forward with passion
and I brave my fears and sometimes they brave me
and we tumble unto the wet ground
and writhe and howl and vomit
until we find our way back to purity
back to lady bugs who sit on blades of grass knowing exactly who they are
and what their place is in the universe
and then all the secrets are revealed
and then there are no more secrets only harmony
but you must dance wildly my love, dance wildly
until you are inside out
until there is nothing left of you to fight reality
until there is nothing left in you to get between you and god
you and ladybugs
you and the mystery which is no longer mystery when you are no longer in the way you must, I must, we must give it all
every drop of sweat blood shit and cum, milk and cherries
sanity, destiny, ancestry, hope
future
I mean all of it until we have been peeled naked and are humbled to tears
just standing before one another
and then you can say I love you
and then I will believe you
take me
hold me
break me
Yes…. Yes! .... Yes!
I'm here to serve
and I am here to protect the wild fires of life that burn without lies
I am here to shake wildly
and break barriers
and smash fallacies
and get naked and get raw
and be truth and be Yes
and be brilliant and shine
and ask a million
questions
and im here and to understand patterns
and to build bridges between heaven and earth,
head and feet
human and angel.
and I'm here to respect plants and love animals
while making you dizzy with my purple hair and my wild dances
and I move forward with passion
and I brave my fears and sometimes they brave me
and we tumble unto the wet ground
and writhe and howl and vomit
until we find our way back to purity
back to lady bugs who sit on blades of grass knowing exactly who they are
and what their place is in the universe
and then all the secrets are revealed
and then there are no more secrets only harmony
but you must dance wildly my love, dance wildly
until you are inside out
until there is nothing left of you to fight reality
until there is nothing left in you to get between you and god
you and ladybugs
you and the mystery which is no longer mystery when you are no longer in the way you must, I must, we must give it all
every drop of sweat blood shit and cum, milk and cherries
sanity, destiny, ancestry, hope
future
I mean all of it until we have been peeled naked and are humbled to tears
just standing before one another
and then you can say I love you
and then I will believe you
Do You Remember
Do you remember that day in the park? We got there at dawn and stayed way late. Doing absolutely nothing. All day. You walked me half way home and when we said goodbye around 42nd street I didn't know if you would ever call. But you did, of course you did...
And do you remember the fried blueberry muffins and the fresh pasta with broccoli you used to make for us at 3 am?
Do you remember stealing that black lace shirt for me at the shop in the Hamptons and us laughing our asses off and making out on some perfectly manicured lawn?
Do you remember teaching me to swim in my father’s swimming pool? I still use my legs the way you taught me and I think of you every time. And I swim a lot u know cos I live in Hawaii, so I think of you a lot.
Do you remember arriving to the big island for the first time and thinking we had landed in the wrong place by accident? The desolate, barren land under the hazy sky and black lava rock as far as our eyes could see? Where is the jungle and the half naked girls with gigantic flowers behind their ears? But do you remember how quickly and hopelessly we fell in love with it?
Do u remember the purple ferns, the queen panther and the baby hair on the back of my neck and how you wished you were small enough so you could take naps there cos it was the softest place in the world?
Do you remember driving to LA in the pouring rain and mad traffic for 9 hours to see me? Just in case, you said, cos you never know. But you did know cos that was the last time I saw you. And do you remember the cherries you brought for me? You always knew how to make me feel seen and cared for.
And do you remember me being so wrapped up in some boy I was fancying in the moment that I hardly gave you any attention? And do you remember loving me all the same? Oh, the puddles of tears I shed over that little miscalculation. You only were the love of my life and this only was the last time I would ever see you and you only drove all night to get to me.
And do you remember the last time we spoke? It was the day you died and you called in the late morning. We talked about everything as we always did and then you said that you had read that if you dream of living in a strange and unknown city it implies imminent death and that last night you dreamt of being in a strange and unknown city. I got freaked out as I always did because somehow a part of me always knew that you would go too soon. Not too soon for you I suppose but most definitely too soon for me. I asked why you are telling me scary things. You laughed and said not to worry because although you did wander around a strange and unknown city looking for an apartment to rent, you didn't find one. Well you must have had to couch surf or be homeless when you first got there because that very night you were struck down by a bus on your evening walk through the golden gate park. I mean who the fuck dies on an evening stroll through the golden gate park?! There is like one bus an hour! You would have to be timing the damn convergence to get anything out of it. Or were you just so ridiculously Zen? You probably were, weren’t you…
And do you remember the way the air smelled in Sam Francisco after you died?
Don’t worry if you don’t because I do. I remember everything and probably will until it no longer matters…. And when it no longer matters we’ll probably meet again and begin at the beginning like we always do.
And do you remember the fried blueberry muffins and the fresh pasta with broccoli you used to make for us at 3 am?
Do you remember stealing that black lace shirt for me at the shop in the Hamptons and us laughing our asses off and making out on some perfectly manicured lawn?
Do you remember teaching me to swim in my father’s swimming pool? I still use my legs the way you taught me and I think of you every time. And I swim a lot u know cos I live in Hawaii, so I think of you a lot.
Do you remember arriving to the big island for the first time and thinking we had landed in the wrong place by accident? The desolate, barren land under the hazy sky and black lava rock as far as our eyes could see? Where is the jungle and the half naked girls with gigantic flowers behind their ears? But do you remember how quickly and hopelessly we fell in love with it?
Do u remember the purple ferns, the queen panther and the baby hair on the back of my neck and how you wished you were small enough so you could take naps there cos it was the softest place in the world?
Do you remember driving to LA in the pouring rain and mad traffic for 9 hours to see me? Just in case, you said, cos you never know. But you did know cos that was the last time I saw you. And do you remember the cherries you brought for me? You always knew how to make me feel seen and cared for.
And do you remember me being so wrapped up in some boy I was fancying in the moment that I hardly gave you any attention? And do you remember loving me all the same? Oh, the puddles of tears I shed over that little miscalculation. You only were the love of my life and this only was the last time I would ever see you and you only drove all night to get to me.
And do you remember the last time we spoke? It was the day you died and you called in the late morning. We talked about everything as we always did and then you said that you had read that if you dream of living in a strange and unknown city it implies imminent death and that last night you dreamt of being in a strange and unknown city. I got freaked out as I always did because somehow a part of me always knew that you would go too soon. Not too soon for you I suppose but most definitely too soon for me. I asked why you are telling me scary things. You laughed and said not to worry because although you did wander around a strange and unknown city looking for an apartment to rent, you didn't find one. Well you must have had to couch surf or be homeless when you first got there because that very night you were struck down by a bus on your evening walk through the golden gate park. I mean who the fuck dies on an evening stroll through the golden gate park?! There is like one bus an hour! You would have to be timing the damn convergence to get anything out of it. Or were you just so ridiculously Zen? You probably were, weren’t you…
And do you remember the way the air smelled in Sam Francisco after you died?
Don’t worry if you don’t because I do. I remember everything and probably will until it no longer matters…. And when it no longer matters we’ll probably meet again and begin at the beginning like we always do.
Go Catch A Rainbow
Most people will never understand who you are to me. To them you are just some guy who died ten years ago. Sure it sounds like you were a pretty special guy and we had a good thing together but it has now been ten years and everything fades with time. Yes it does, most of it does, but somehow you don’t. Sure you have faded from my day-to-day comings and goings, but my heart is as fresh for you as it was when we met and I suspect it will remain so until I am no longer me. And do you know why this is so? Because you are the only one who ever loved me. And I don't mean you are the only man who ever loved me, I mean you are the only human. I mean not mama, not papa, not even daughter (not yet anyway) have loved me they way you have. Unconditionally. It is a tired word, I know, but I do not use it lightly. I mean unconditionally. You loved me despite me. You loved me when I had no clue how to love you back. You loved me when I was a sweet innocent one and you loved me when I was a whore, a junky-wanna-be, a bitch, an unfaithful wife. You loved me no matter who or how or what or when. All the permutations were irrelevant to you. You saw right through them and straight into my beauty, my soul and my truth. And when I say you loved me I mean you didn’t expect me to be anyone other than who I was at any given hour. You accepted me and welcomed me no matter how I showed up and what mask I was wearing and what kind of a fuck up I was being. You were always happy to see me. You always smiled and said “hi bushy-tailed kitty, how have you been?” And you have never asked for anything in return. Nothing. And with your love you taught me so much. You inspired me, you showed me that all permutations are impermanent and only the essential endures. You showed me that love between people does exist and that you don’t have to compromise yourself to be loved. No one has ever showed this to me before or since. Perhaps in words, but not actions. You were the most profound being I ever met. And I have met many people. Saints, spiritual people, enlightened people. No one has ever come close to you. You were as pure and as real as they make them. It is as if you were able to let love move through you without getting snagged on any of you. It flowed in as untained as it flowed out. Just love. If you had been an instrument you would surely have been god’s favorite flute.
This is the last e-mail you wrote. “Hello, zhmurik, I love your xvostik playing in the sun. Go catch a rainbow.”
Ok my love, on my way….
This is the last e-mail you wrote. “Hello, zhmurik, I love your xvostik playing in the sun. Go catch a rainbow.”
Ok my love, on my way….
You Can't Live Through This In English
Growling stomachs churning with premonition. Impatient tongues are wagging in thirsty apprehension. Devour the liquid liturgy. Surrender your marrow. The gateway is indubitably precise and narrow. Can you tetris yourself into a creature so refined as to squeeze through a crack in the fabric of space-time? The curvatures are shattering. Smithereens scattering all over the known cosmoverse. Collapse is imminent as is resurrection. Always. Such is the perfection of eternity. But we are far from it, we are thick in the trenches. Reality is a mind-boggling adventure, those eyes take me deep into the rabbit hole, abysmal worlds, unfathomable. Spiraling spiraling deeper and deeper into profundity, bordering on insanity. Something is screaming in the dissolving mind, stop this submarine, the descent is too fast. The chest is being squeezed as if a giant python is wrapping its monstrous trunk around it. Slithering lazily, loitering. The heart is pumping fast, faster, sparks flying. Illuminating the night sky. Electric rain shower unleashes violently from nirvana, rushing rivers, breaking dams, drowning beavers. Shivers are creeping up and down the spine. Sweat dripping saturating skin, cloth, terra. Mercury rising, the giant snakes undulating and writing, their menacing frames abstract the light and air. We are chocking with fear, the end is near, or so we hope. They swallow us whole. We are falling into the blackest black hole known to man. Bones cracking, limbs shaking, shackles breaking. Infinity infinite. And I am not ready for this! Thoughts rushing, scattering. Mind stumbles upon itself and shutters again and again. And splatters on walls made of jewels of unimaginable, heartwrenching beauty. All around is symmetry divine, complexity sublime if only I had a mind to hold it all together. But I am utterly untetherd. And I am not ready for this! Take me home. The gnomes chuckle. There is no way out but through miss kangaroo. Who the fuck is that? Holly barbarella. Ohhhh here it comes. Tongues, tongues. Shakati pu pa, kaka ti ka pu narihishohopopo naya giri moro kishtabar kishatbar. The English has failed. Thank god. You cannot live through this in English. Kampah chikly fashi papu pa fa shi pa pu pa. tik tiki tik tik tiki tik, nochokoy bora ku, nochokoy bora ku. Ya mam ya mama ya mama ya mama ya mama ya mama curevojavora corevojavor moya moay moay moya. Wima nay waima naya wima nay waima naya wima ma…
Ladies and Gentleman
Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in space. No really we are. We are floating in deep deep space. Have you noticed? I know you think you know but do you really know? Do you understand what this even means? Do you know that we live on a tiny rock in some suburban neighborhood of some so-called by us Milky Way galaxy? Do you know that our solar system is located some 30, 000 light-years away from this galaxy’s galactic center? Do you know what 30,000 light years away from the galactic center even means? Cos one light year is a number so large they call it and aui, as in astronomical unit, cos even they can’t wrap their minds around this number. And so then you take this number that no one can wrap it’s mind around in the first place and multiply it by 30,000 and that’ how far away we are from the center of our own galaxy. Not that that will mean anything to you either because most of you have never been further than Kentucky and even if you have how could any of us possibly extrapolate any meaning out of these mindboggling abstractions. But if you could you would see that I am not kidding you ladies and gentleman when I say we are floating in deep deep space. And then there are about 300 billion stars in just this galaxy alone. And what that means is that there are at least a hundred billion rocks like ours floating about out there. And then there are at least 100 billion galaxies in the universe and that’s just this one tiny unfathomable universe. And supposedly there are as many parallel universes as there are black holes. And there are about a 100 million black holes per galaxy, which at a 100 billion galaxies it is a pretty hefty number. So believe you me ladies and gentleman when I say we are floating in deep deep space. And so while we are hurling through space because indeed we are, cos did I mention that our galaxy is also traveling through this deep deep space at 1.3 billion miles per hour while our solar system is orbiting the galactic axis at 600,000 miles an hour, never mind that this little rock underneath our feet is moving at 1100 miles an hour, but who’s counting. And so while we are hurling through deep space atop of this tiny little pebble you ladies and gentleman wake up every morning as if you live on a flat disk that sits top of fifteen turtles perched steady on a back of a giant immovable elephant. And so every morning you wake up and wonder what color socks you should wear today, what’s for breakfast, and weather or not gay people are acting in accord with god’s will. And it hardly ever occurs to any of you to stop and ponder the absurdity of it all. And so I ask you ladies and gentleman, when are we going to pause and notice our own insignificance? When are we going to notice that we are in fact floating in deep deep space? A tiny pebble existing in the midst of this unimaginably grand design, so alone yet so embedded into the whole, holy picture. Ladies and gentleman lift your faces up to the sky, ponder the immensity that we are living inside. Take off you socks and for just a few moments contemplate your own insignificance, it will do wonders for your permanently furrowed brow, for your irregular bowel movements and possibly even for you marriages. Kick back, rejoice, breathe out. We are floating in deep deep space ladies and gentelmen ….
Lady Margaret
Pieces of paper are floating in the air like autumn leaves. What is this life about anyways? I miss you still, I miss you at every turn. Your skin tastes like rain or is it the other way around…. I’m not sure. I dream of you dreaming about me. And we say nothing because we know. We know cos we have always known. Even before we divined it on the sediment of that pungent ruby wine as you were slowly rotating the glass, making it refract light and split it into the colors of the rainbow. How did I ever find you anyways? You just appeared in that sweltering August heat and took me away. Away from all that was so reliably certain and into the bondless wild of my soul. And autumn came and we were still in love, wandering the streets of Manhattan for days, dazed. Drinking life, mixing it with red wine and ecstasy. Our navels are breathing in unison and we talk all the time but we don’t have to. I can’t believe I have finally found you, you whisper. You throw my bottle of orange juice into the east river to show me the futility of attachment. We live in a parallel universe and no one can see us, that’s why that swing is always empty whenever we show up in the park and why we never get caught stealing cheese and shaving cream from the supermarket.
You are a miracle. My true romance. Meanwhile autumn is wearing its sexy cowl neck sweaters and leather boots. Its wet darkness seductively inviting us to sit by a fireplace in some quaint dimly lit restaurant in the west village, drinking more wine, talking about heroin. My hand can see through yours and there are no questions. Moravagine and Hopscotch electrify my mind and etch deep, eternal grooves on my heart. They will be there long after the last of your ashes are washed away by the roaring spring tides. I am your Lady Margaret and you are my salvation, my absolute muse. So many tears inside of me. Rivers and rivers of tears frozen into glaciers for centuries. I melt. I almost drown. Eventually something saves me, life saves me and I go on living, sometimes even happily ever after. But I still miss you at every turn.
Yours truly, lady Margaret.
You are a miracle. My true romance. Meanwhile autumn is wearing its sexy cowl neck sweaters and leather boots. Its wet darkness seductively inviting us to sit by a fireplace in some quaint dimly lit restaurant in the west village, drinking more wine, talking about heroin. My hand can see through yours and there are no questions. Moravagine and Hopscotch electrify my mind and etch deep, eternal grooves on my heart. They will be there long after the last of your ashes are washed away by the roaring spring tides. I am your Lady Margaret and you are my salvation, my absolute muse. So many tears inside of me. Rivers and rivers of tears frozen into glaciers for centuries. I melt. I almost drown. Eventually something saves me, life saves me and I go on living, sometimes even happily ever after. But I still miss you at every turn.
Yours truly, lady Margaret.
