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Friday, September 28, 2012

a broad harvest of palms and gold

a broad harvest of palms and gold

            (…because I’m still in love with you, I want to see you dancing…
-Neil Young.)
(…Jadis, si je me souviens bien, ma vie était un festin où s'ouvraient tous les
cœurs, où tous les vins coulaient…
-Arthur Rimbaud.)

teasing full moon-            my sweetest friend-
you see me here, iconoclastic,
more of myself in trash and couture,
my body betraying such costumes
as we crash a tortured fete.

i, a yogi cowgirl riding off into the sunset

eating every last heart in the sky,


you, the sky.

oh, what happened to the wild ones inside?
did they grow up a while back?
a decision to be regretted and fretted over and-

witnessed by a gypsy in the stars.

your heart calls upon my soul,
as the sirens sang to odysseus aeons ago,
as distraction forever woos the world
of human, mortal, near human, barely human,
immortal, immoral, for-getted?

here now grammar forgotful
hammered forlorn
lost for nothing
as I am none
of these

I chewed up every last mortal morsel,
and spat them out.
they needed salt.

but back to this full moon,
for this is a modern world
lacking romance,
romantics leaping in twos and threes
into the sky
for dearth of meaning
for lies of mirth in feeling
for phony sighs and American thighs

and here, I.

legs out the window,
hands like wings,
I dangle for none to see,
to think such wondrous things!
for nobody.
nobody but me….
…and an imaginary you
portrayed in this evening’s performance

sir firmament,

notes by Bach and Bacharach,
Sawhney, Young and
let me list a thousand loves
upon my fingers
if it distract you long enough to listen to

the wind,
reminds me:

presently i’m hanging upside down
outside the window
right side up
in a mobius world

just waiting for a reason to stay
just waiting for a reason to run


Love Always,
Whatever that means,

Erin Elizabeth

Saturday, September 22, 2012


a dog chases his tail while the slivered moon climbs ladders in the sky.
it was one of those evenings where there was nowhere else to go,
like every evening, full of stars lingering behind thoughtless clouds,
the city's eventual crumble into the firmament of smog and grey.
and freedom? well, who can answer, what is freedom?
it is running along the same dry lake bed for a thousand years
just for a single taste of salt mixed in with your tears, and, after footstep after footstep, lifetime after lifetime, when finally you sense the stream along your cheek, in a moment of forgetful wonder you wipe the wetness from your eyes.... laugh, and let the marathon commence again.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

autoharp angels, blue moons and weddings

When i was in college... rather, a more accurate depiction of the era which I am trying to describe would be, um,  hmmmm.... in between colleges.... something about wandering, and waiting, and watching the water roll over the Mississippi.... ..... anyway, during the time of which I speak, I worked for a home for developmentally disabled people.

There were four gents in my house, aged 17-45, with varying degrees of autism, mental retardation, and other disabilities. I loved them all. there was the youngest fellah, who loved cars and trucks and called my car "The Mighty Topaz!" He did this because he loved cars and when I began working there, he asked me what kind of car I drove, and I said, "Why, The Mighty Topaz!" Only he had a way of raising his pointer finger in the air like Tony The Tiger when he would say it. "The Miiiiiighty Topaz!" A person had to be careful, though. If you didn't hide your keys, this kid might run out and start your car and drive it down the street for you.... or, maybe even through the garage door if you had been silly enough to park in the garage AND leave your keys out in the open.

Then there was the one who was not by first glance developmentally disabled. I remember the first time I walked into the house and saw him. I thought, "Hell, yeah! Hot coworker!" Then he started rocking back and forth, bringing the three middle fingers of his hand in an ASL "W" rapid fire to his mouth, again and again and again in rapid fire progression. Turned out he was one of our guys. He was handsome, though, and sometimes I would say, "Come on. You're just pretending, right?"

The third guy was a sweet one who.... nope, wait. I can't lie. The truth is, I never quite connected with him. But still, I massaged his head and shoulders at night because it helped him sleep. I can still remember how tense his shoulders were and what a fun challenge it was to get them to go from concrete to the feeling of hard earth so he could fall asleep.

But then there was my music lover. One of our guys loved music desperately. Unfortunately, fortunately, he played autoharp and sang. Also, fortunately, unfortunately, he was OCD and only knew two songs: Buffalo Gals, which is the unfortunate part. And fortunately, and even surprisingly, he could play autoharp and sing THIS song:

Un amor... one love....

Always and ever love is on my mind, love of all varieties as fantastic expressions of one grander variety. My sister was married over the weekend in what was simply the best ( ceremony I've ever attended. I know I'm prejudiced, but it was personal, honest, vulnerable, romantic, present, emotional, communal, familial. It was under the blue moon on a yacht called the Fantasea, out in the waters of the Marina del Rey. Everyone in attendance was in joy, in love, in excitement for the union of two beautiful people.

I love the unlikeliness of life and how beautifully that unlikeliness continues to surprise me.  Laura and Kevin, by all accounts from each individual's beginnings, were never supposed to meet, let alone fall in love. My developmentally disabled friend shouldn't have been able to mimic the Gypsy Kings pitch perfectly. Blue moons are rare, like the willingness to grow into a true and deep love with a high stakes partner. And when it happens, it's gorgeous.

Life can really knock you off your feet and sometimes that's the best thing that can happen. Let the waves take you and turn up on the other side, surfing all the way from Malibu to the Marina. And if you float under the water, deep beneath the current, dreaming til human voices wake you, then let that sea salt flaxen your hair and melt your unwillingness until the stars pop up in the sky once again and you are them. It's your life, damn it! Are you really living?

I am.