Compatibility, question mark, comma, stop.

Maybe its a matter of degree, or looking at temporal distinctions.

I cannot keep company with fear, apathy and willful ignorance.

It disagrees with every cell in my body.

My bones were carved in the caves of social struggle, of brave souls that hammered out the truth and went up against overwhelming odds again and again.   So you could have the life you have and your beloved weekend.

I cannot betray the bloodline I come from and all they sacrificed to make my sacrifice less.

You swam round and round, darting out from the green and pebbled floor -

hoping I’d fly by and visit, but for only a short time, to enjoy my song.

But my song’s not for you and I’m looking for a nest, not a pond.

I hovered at the surface of your water til it turned to ice.  

Now I leave you be with your drinks and smokes and watery echoes.

Strange how it seems you won this argument as you’d hoped I’d give up all along.

It appeases the cloudy coverings you furnish your ceilings with.

And yet in those lovely blue eyes I saw reflected something daring me to try.

And though I do adore you and though you light me up inside – the sky is waiting.

For the last thing I wish is to make the fearful more afraid, the apathetic care less and the willfully ignorant wish to not know.  They say that love conquers fear, so what if love is what your afraid of?

I will visit this beautiful fish in my thoughts – from a safe distance.  And wish he’d call to me when he’s ready to be set free.  

Posted: August 29th, 2008 under my poetry.
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It’s raining inside and out.

I love how it taps out a sequence of rhythms and gently quells the fires inside. 

I feel like I could be in this melancholy mist my whole life.

I breathe and listen.

And remember the day I ran out from your house twice to stand in a downpour that took over the streets filling the gutters with so much water. I lifted my willing chin to the falling and let it drench me. I screamed, invigorated, and then ran back in like a naughty child hoping you’d caught me.

My spirit, like this, will find a place – someday..

And I’ll run into the arms that grab me strong,

that echo my wild, determinant – open sense of play. 

My chest open, arms spread wide and face to the sky,

my heart completely there and my blood strong. 

With dulled senses you cannot feel me,

with eyes turned away I am invisible.  

And these ‘somedays’ are lining up and seem to stretch out for miles.

But the pavement is wet and so am I and there is so much to see and to question and to untie.

Somewhere, at a distance, another is going out for a drink and a good time.  But soon we will tango, sharing lips and breath.

Flirtations as we unzip each other’s seams.

What of each other we will open remains to be seen.

For now I exchange soft whispers with my other self,

Finding in each other a sameness to hold each other through the stormy weather. 

So alike we rest in each other’s skin.

And understand the aches and frustrations,

to kiss my shoulder when the wheel’s skid and my body hits the pavement.

Still while falling I land to turn my face upward.

Posted: August 28th, 2008 under my poetry.
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Standing on the street that for now is my home.

The sky flashes and the tympanies resound across the night sky.

I listen to the mantra of the crickets and the chorus of raindrops.

The street lamps cast a series of glimpses through the mist – like cinematic pictures on the pavement.

I look up and down the street and smell the air, the wet quiet stillness.

And as the day yielded to night so did my fancies – from one to another, 

where one lets go – a new one takes hold.

For now only mystery, but for unseen possibilities to turn the page

As cyclical as the rain which fell before.  Flames reignite.

And finding a door – closing to open into itself, 

I pause to wonder.  And enjoy the flight of taking chances.

And not to question, only be grateful for the beauty and grace of the fall.

Wherever I stand, give in or give way to – the choice is my own.

And I am always home.

Posted: August 28th, 2008 under my poetry, my thoughts.
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 I sit in the stillness of my quiet -

pondering the misinterpretations of me,

saying thanks for those that share my path,

who let me be and who positively flow.

I sit in the stillness of  my quiet -

letting the buzz of the room fill my ears,

the hum of my electronic pen,

giving thanks to words – my trusty friends.

I sit in the stillness of my quiet -

swallow a glass of water,

glance back over the yet untyped thoughts,

just about ready to overwhelm the screen.

I sit in the stillness of my quiet -

and in that place I am content,

in that space – a crack opens – to allow for healing.

The soft spots where sleep can be like a deep sea

and you feel held in bed with yourself – without self,

just being and immersion, nothing and everything,

completely free and belonging. 

Pillows, bed, crickets, quiet, stillness… at last to rest.

Posted: August 28th, 2008 under my poetry.
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Cutting up your life into little pieces,

Body parts astrewn in no particular order.

Evidence that lays out the parts of what was whole,

adhesive applying a stronger kind of hold.

The duck tape of thoughts I break with my teeth

to seal the feelings underneath.

What tools do I have to carve out my pain?

What beauty spins out from the frayed threads of longing?

Fighting the losses.. counting the blessings.. and the lessons.

Rearrange.  Step Back.  Get out of the dance.

Dissemble.  Cool it out. 

Eyes to the soul, windows open wide – without a door,

walls that melt away..  porous to the touch.

And why is there no lock?-  yet always a key in hand

hoping someone will stay

to crack the codes – clear passage ways between us. 

Staircases to the floor upstairs – running up to greet you,

sheets that substitute for love, cigarettes shared in case the lips are only speaking.

A hand to want another hand seems far reaching,

shapeshifting to fit your frame of mind..  and that’s just one slice at a time.

Posted: August 24th, 2008 under my poetry.
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