no dialogue.

you know, carelessly. the buzzing sensation that deepest layers of skin feel after the tight grip unclasped.  and no other hand can retune the nerves to the place before where synapse spakes to core and encouragement, voice leads you to ingenious places.  gone are symbols, signs and places, peeling apart the surfaces of what was built.  the product of innattention – the face is turned completely and the nape of the skull has no eye to judge you nor face your points, endeavours – no scowl to chide your weaknesses. no dialogue.  there is no voice; the vibration of the throat does not transmit the spine. it is not mine, it is something other and i adore that but, i struggle with the lack of dialogue. no interest in the core between before, but only forward moving then and therefore now no maintenance.

so there are two voices then. the discord twangs and i dig my heels in as i try to sing accompaniment. but some acts are solo, and each project as i go becomes less delightful when is not as you imagined. no partner, no. the insect on the wing a mere annoyance, the input buzzing ruffling feathers. i bury deep and sleep, the fluffing shaking, juttering me. i hope no windy turbulence unseats me.

how different than i see myself. the roots i offer grow the motions up; can give a good thing life. through earth more water travels than to throw the puddles up, and only get wet. careful checks can help from unplanned hassles to beget. discerning so, carefully so, patient yet. each plodded trod deliberate, each good intention set.

changes, consolidation

so much has happened in the course of a few short weeks. i think i’ve lived more in this short time than i have in awhile. it’s the climax of the risk/reward scenario.  i am simultaneously losing everything and gaining everything… my freedom.  i’m so grateful the way it has shaken down, at least today.  lets hope these blessings continue.  and if not, i have resolved myself to the idea that i have enough to give to everyone – every tax man, every punishing homeowners board, every pathogen, every criticizing wagging finger.  i have so much to give to all of you that i can afford to share my money, my time and my love.  i am grateful for the chance, because it means i have survived another day to carry on the greatest purpose, which is to share.  loss of theft isn’t possible when you’re willing to give it all away.

but it’s still a good idea to lock your doors.

what do you THINK?

to the masses of those struggling for self love, self medicating with whatever herb the earth gives or the doc prescribes, waiting for great break, unconsciously until the pain of the world subsides… what do you think?

if you are a free individual, free from residual judgement or lack of nourishment, free from perpetual punishment and demands put upon you by those you once loved or trusted. you are karmically standing in your own destiny in the wake of your path, your family’s mistakes, the will of your ancestors and the drowning sound of your generations ululation.  are you surprised?  did the mass of failure just sneak up on you, or have you avoided it… turning to the smallest corner of the room, your own personal dramas… or better yet, to the “outside”, where there are many empty roads to search for sex (not the endless font of love you think but rather a window to the open sores you carry). or the big and empty sky oscillates in color wildly until the silent command of the rainbow awaits the peaceful promise of god? you have ignored your creations in the desire to masturbate your first dynamic, but obsessing over the drama of the self is the easiest escape from the lessons that other people teach us.

we are in a period that makes the willingness to face our own challenges with maturity and thankfulness a dire necessity- not to swallow them in silence in shame, but to wear them like beautiful coats as we are strong enough as individuals to carry them and ultimately they keep us warm, alive and moving.  you were blessed with this challenge because it is the next step for you to grow as an individual, and without it you would be living like a child, hiding from the outside world in the arms of a parent or heavy blanket.

my heart goes out to everyone experiencing challenges right now, with love and gratitude. these may never be “good” things but they are the things that make us “good” people.

How to Love Someone's Back, and Someone's Back Only (2002)

she would press her fingers firmly into his back, kneading each small knot until it gave way to her persistence, and with her fingertips trace the fibers of the muscles. His back, silent–immobile–would occasionally heave with a staggered breath. she would run her palms along the sinews that curtain the spine, leaning over the slightest bit to increase the pressure. her lips were closer to his ear.

/does that feel good?/

she would smile at a muffled reply, and knead each section slowly, with new vigor.

[if she could close her eyes she would only see her body wrapped around his back legs, parallel almost, to his... her forehead anchored at his neck, his response an inevitable arch of the spine.] the only way to handle the situation would have been to flip him over, and see how far the trembling, nervous road would take her.

[he could move his hands beyond the thong, into the realm of the not previously conceived. past each embarrassed smile she drape, he could dive ambitiously into the crevice of her collarbone--slowly--as if to smell the desire with which she enveloped him. she could become a guttural noise, escaping her own mouth when she finally received him. her lust for him could persuade his mind.]

that rush of her dreams would send a shudder through the core of her, until she couldn’t stand hovering above that delicious three inch mark, south of his neck. it would be hard enough to stop.

/time to go to bed/

it was later than she would expect. for a long few seconds she would feel the beating of her own chest, so violent it abuses the last breath her lungs could muster. she would so easily let herself slide between him and the sheets…

[love that back]

…smell the culmination of what she aspired for these past few hours. maybe just sleep. how… to just sleep with your nerves in such a torturous cling?

/you could always stay/

the thud of her chest paraphrased. because she was thinking the same. the first time she would find herself drawn from the shelter under which she had lain so vulnerable. the duplicity of his statement only made her want more.

[there is no other end of the phone waiting for you. you're clear. you could.]

/i don’t think it’s such a good idea/

to elaborate would stretch her statement into a veneer of a lie. she wouldn’t lie to him.

it would be too late to take it back. she would watch the dream asphyxiate, unwilling to assist it into a further life. perhaps it would return to her another time. it’s familiarity would give her such unreasonable hope.

a squeeze goodnight. an innocent jump and tiptoe. sometimes she felt herself regressing.

half employed

i have a job.  is that good news? i believe so. it’s not enough to meet my obligations, but that’s the fault of my obligations and not my job. so it’s time to start slicing and dicing.

the other day i was driving on the highway, still irritated at this situation.  even still, portions of it moved me.  lakes with glacial guises popped through vacancies between barren trees. the simple bleakness had a calm beauty about it when the cars weren’t on the road. pulling over the southern meadowbrook as pink sky grew denser under the pressure of a inky night horizon, the golden lights pulsed and glowed, punctuating a path for me.

it was nice.

i may get a second job.