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Saturday, August 30, 2008

Second thing in the morning

Hello, love, my shining one, my wandering one...

veiled and veiled and veiled again.

And we have the gall to ask ourselves, "What is truth?"


High summer holds the earth. Hearts all whole.
A deep yearning. A constant remembrance.

Late year lies down the north, just you and me and a bottle of wine, or without the wine, and without the north, all is healed, all is... just with you and with me, it is we, it is you, it is me, it is we, it is you, it is me, it is.... until we melt into a space where there is no you and me and

only the non passage of non time and the non circle of all non eternities because all is (0) is all is (0) is 8 = 0 = 8 = 0 =

shadows, because...

where I stand, in this, deep, love and sex and emotional interest and intellectual intrigue and connection that is beyond any of that, and then when you are near, this wretched fear stops me from reaching out to touch you

veiled and veiled and veiled again.

how dare I ask?

Thursday, August 28, 2008

first thing in the morning

funny what love does,
when you're torn up, inside or out, by history or culture
proposed truths
funny what it means
to listen deeper
know more
by which i mean
KNOW more
in the core of knowing
funny what it
looks like
what you thought it should look like
what you wished it would
look like and
what it actually is

but - oh -
dreams are not meant
for selling

love is not meant for Restricting
freedom exists only
in freedom
and in all words
all logos and all
and all
is all
there IS freedom
I seek
love, and freedom, and
the place where the two
(words, not words)
become one

All things become the same thing
All words become one word
All isms, people, thought that
could be thought to
be thought
existence that could
exist to be in
all of it
becomes one
and these details
of specificity
as the diamond glint
of individuality
Reveals the diamond
beyond all that it is the diamond
it is in the shine

melt into me

how joyous
how frightening
to my

I choose to remember
of what did we speak?)

which becomes
always was



It is the only thing there
is and

the only thing we're doing


Sunday, August 24, 2008


sometimes in every breath
there is a symphony

one of my friends gave me a pear from her orchard
smell: sweet floral,
color: light green specked with yellow
feel: cool in my hand, and heavy

I ate it on a break from a job
all around me every one was really stressed out
about what, I couldn't really tell, because I was doing a job in a corporate office and I have never had that kind of job and when people want me to get stressed out about stuff I become more like a duck and it rolls off my back and if they continue to want me to get stressed out I get angry and just say, forget about it, and hence have never been able to keep a normal job, because it always seemed to me (i'm not saying I'm right or wrong here, I'm super stubborn and all that) like it was a bunch of rules that made no sense and a lot of extra explaining to do when we could just get to work but. Hey. I've never had a "normal" job longer than a week so what would I really know about it? Not much

what I do know is about that pear

dive in,
remember the experience of a pear

I mean, I'm no Hemingway, I'm no Rumi, I'm not even Nin, but

remember the experience of a pear

teeth slicing skin
teeth compressing grainy flesh
sweet juice eking out
the faintest mist of wildflowers
mixed upon a round buttery sugar
but light still light
oh god, that divine smell
and oh god, that drop upon the tongue that mash up against the teeth delicate and animal all at once
so am I

as I turn away from the computers, the glitches, the beepings, the monitors, the phones, the innuendo, the anger, the unspoken he said she said where's mine why didn't I get, the shoes too tight, the belly overlapping, the hope for tomorrow, the preoccupation of sex or the children or the laundry list of things to do,

and I look out the window past the supermarkets and the office buildings and the mountains rising in the distance

and into the elegy of the sky and the wind

and I say once again

sometimes in every breath

wait I change that

in every breath
there is
a symphony