any dreams lately???

Tuesday, September 30, 2014


the adventurer
the lover
the dreamer
the sage
all the cards fanned out on the table
the curve of strength to his spine
the back is packed
these have no place today
in the weary gaze of the morning light
when a moment ago, the memory was real
a tease

As far back as I can remember, there has always been the promise of something great. A great accomplishment designed by me. The me who has talent and strength and all sorts of possibilities. The stories that are waiting to be written by these hands, the beauty that is to be shared with the world excreted from this soul, the tantalizing flavors that only I can produce which can explore the boundaries of your taste buds and quench your unappreciated thirst. The intentions are always there, ready to burst forth like an overripe, overplump berry...
The intentions are exacted through someone else's eyes.
You look at me and your imagination is stirred. Your breath is taken away at the possibilities, so numerous, so grand. My laughter in your ears solidifies the perceived dominance that I bear. In your eyes, I can accomplish things that you can only dream of.
My words take up that string of hope. I can design so much from this. A crocheted doily that can be placed on your table. To catch the drips of your water glass. And that's as far as it goes.
Because I am a cripple, held fast by the weight of your eyes. Your eyes too occupied to see that you are my crutch.
So we hobble along, the detritus we leave behind is to remember.
I don't blame your confusion when you look back. It was not supposed to smell this bad. We turn up our noses and take another step forward.
You look at me knowing that one day I can make something great out of this...

Monday, April 21, 2014

It's getting harder and harder

to find the open doors. The fog that comes with this new reality makes it also hard to find my tools for survival. In the backround is the constant low pitched whine of broken parts, the engine keeps running. But for how long...?
I'm reading a book about madness and desperation. An attempt to ignore reality a tragic escape. But I don't see any answers to my questions. I don't know where to turn or what to ask.
The humming gives me a headache.

So let's make a plan.

Monday, January 23, 2012


i am a grande dame
i'll spin you stories of strength and perseverance
you'll look upon me with awe
and hope to reach my wisdom
i'm a chain of knowledge
every link is wrought from my tears
and struggles
it lends its strength and explains its weight
i'm a wall of sound
for everything bounces off of me
in a halo of haunts and taunts
and nothing absorbed and all is a shield
i'm a cave of sorrows
and i howl into myself
a tunnel of empty cold winds
rushing through my heart
wet with tears
a blubbering hot soaked feather pillow
a ball of spittle and pain
i wear it on the inside

what do i do

your face is smooth like the infinite sky
the storms have passed leaving a chill
yet i can't find serenity
if i could climb into your ear
like a cartoon of adventure
and touch the pink and grey and get it all over me
sticky and sweet i'm sure
maybe i can melt into it
and never worry again
i'd lay open armed in your inside flesh
and it would swallow me whole
and it would be warm and wet
and would cover my arms
and would envelope my chest
and the pressure would be comforting
and the air would not be necessary
and i wouldn't have to speak
and my mouth would never open again
and my nostrils would be filled
and my eyes would be sealed
and i wouldn't have to breathe
and i wouldn't have to be

Friday, January 06, 2012

this is my favorite time

in the before
i'm smaller than myself
the inner core is soft and wane
my outer layer breaks from the strain
shards and scars crisscross my face
if you talk to me i stretch
this is to comfort you
because my soul is old and knows better
but i droop
and shrivel up when you walk away
crunching softer with each step
and in your wake
my bounty becomes dust

Tuesday, April 05, 2011

Black Sheep

you suffer so distinctly
the real pressures of your age
at once it tingles
memories perhaps?
something similar, a familiar ghost?
i laugh my wizened words reach out and fan the breeze in front of me
and whisk it all away
it's fine, it's all so fine and everything is just as it should be
your turmoil is dark and fragrant
i breathe it in
its earthy green and pungent freshness
makes me yearn for long silent walks on deep rich sighs
the envy that i wear on my shoulders like a newly purchased wrap
offers me no comfort
and secures my distance from what
i wish i had again

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

pictures of myself

my cheeks are heavy
with time

i've never been to costa rica
or andalucia
or many places

i can take a lot of pain
but i don't know how to do it well

there was a time when my style was less defined by what i wore
and more by how good everything looked on me
now i don't have that

but i don't want to succumb to this
when everyone else is glowing all around me
and maybe andalucia is still within reach...

Sunday, February 13, 2011


sometimes my darling
your question drives me mad
my knuckles turn white and I don't respond

I'm ashamed
but I hope that you'll forget
that you wanted to know

but sometimes my angel
I thirst for this curiosity
and believe with all my might that you
really want to know

I entertain this quest
and provide simple, pure and direct
words, ideas, facts
so as not to insult you

then sometimes my love
I dive head first into your eyes
and spin the most fantastic swirls of dreams
out of space and time and sound and sense

and I'm not concerned about losing you
or if you can or want to follow me
because this is where I really am
where I'm familiar
for the you that will always be

Wednesday, February 09, 2011

This voice has spoken

There was no voice that was never heard before
because after all, what is a voice?
but a collection of words
chosen together in an attempt to share
an afterthought that is a need to express
an idea that happened in the glimmer of an instance
like every idea that's already been had
but this one managed to be caught, examined, expounded and then
burbled forth like the froth at the top of a water fountain
that becomes the desperate nodding
of a passionate old man who motions this way
for punctuating punctuating punctuating
this thought that's been formed into words
that are never sufficient to express
what he is so desperate to share
in the voice that can barely be heard
beyond the confines of his lips

Monday, January 31, 2011

i am to write

today during yoga
i dreamt about sand colored blankets
and breastfeeding babies
this was while resting in corpse pose