little unicorn flower

married

2011-11-13T11:52:00.000-08:00

we married on the pacific, against the rocks, cliffs off the ocean. it was panoramic, we could have been in the english isles. the green moss was so vivid, and the water so clear you could see to creatures on the bottom. i wore my bluebird vintage dress, all white, i felt luminous. we collected ourselves by the ocean, rid ourselves from the past, and made eternal promises. he gave me the Torah as contract of our love, and we exchanged rings embossed with "ani l' dodi v' dodi li." we sang yedid nefesh until our hearts stopped. we embraced into the brilliant sun, gazing in the ocean as if there was no end.

settling.

2011-10-10T13:54:00.001-07:00

i'm waiting to settle, like a leaf slowly moving toward ground. i want to feel the earth, the dense soil, gently placed atop mother. it's been months of movement, waiting to come into being. only friction result from so much chaos. i am asking g-d for grace, strength, resolution, peace. it is not stillness i seek, only harmony.

the day of the dead

2011-04-23T08:24:00.000-07:00

the tulips have barely brought blossom,

another spring without beginning,

another winter without forgiveness,

yeshuah in the dark earth,

is the peace of g-d descending?

another place with no story,

how deep do these blades of grass shutter,

into the flesh of mortals,

a slow reaping of sorrow.

where is the g-d today?

where is the sun today?

still no grace to the cold of tomorrow,

i breathe the memory, a lightening lung,

the silence still humility.

The Love of Netzach

2011-04-22T04:54:00.000-07:00

What does it mean to Endure?

The healing trip of two people wounded

And bound by the Eternal, One

Love.

Some say love is healing,

But love takes endurance~netzach

To wake up loving someone

Everyday, even when they’re

Difficult,

Intolerable,

Irrational,

Unwilling

is hard work.

To stay when nothing you want is happening.

To believe when nothing you wish is becoming.

To wait for some parts that may never appear.

What does it mean to Endure my love?

To push it through the finish line?

Sweating,

Feeling the lungs collapse, the breath harden,

As if there was some prize at the finish line.

Perhaps to endure is,

To hold the glory of,

I made it to the end,

That was impossible,

But I pushed my limits,

I did it,

That’s the metaphor of the kind of love

G-d responds to.

guru poetry.

2011-03-13T11:17:00.000-07:00

"the dual scales of maya,
that balance every joy with grief!"
~yogananda

undue.

2011-01-21T04:28:00.000-08:00

how decent of my love to show up at the wrong time.
when there's nothing left for you to give.
where there's nothing left for you to feel.
why there's nothing left for you to trust.
i'm told to thank g-d for this for this decent, into nothing; where your love is waiting.

the godless form.

2010-12-22T19:15:00.000-08:00

"yet to sing love, love must first shatter us." - h.d. doolittle

perhaps now that i have been cracked, edged towards shattered,
i will experience the totality of this, your 'love.'
how cruel the gods must have been
to have thought love, capable for human consumption.
how cruel this dense universe
to make me belong.
were not flowers meant for rain?
spare me,
the gripping nature,
the death of creation.
i would much rather
be with out.
how easy space must feel,
left alone, without force, form, or pleasure.

Love as Question.

2010-12-22T18:56:00.000-08:00

It is safe to say that Love has come in a form that I can recognize, something felt and dense to the senses, something uneasy, cumbersome, something to play with, some form of dreaming. A form of man, chiseled like the sun, radiant, yet virgin-like & holy. Love; the Universal Divine Teacher...reminding me that I never knew how to love; that to love- is extremely humbling and a Universal service, one which takes mastery of the selfless service nature. One that mystifies the idea of identity, and radically challenges the form of belonging. To Love is rather a "light" term for "Total Devotion to G-d," and his many myriad forms, even those mirroring illusions of being. Now I understand what 'they' mean by the saying, "You can't Love someone, until you Love yourself." For if my total other is my self, I will never totally comprehend that Love of being, until I selflessly, accept all aspects of denseness, those unworthy of compassion, and give over completely, my total devotion to the Union, which is healing all fragments of self, all perfect in their misplacement.
Love as prayer, meditation, or blessing...
Love as the Cosmic Symbiosis.
Love as Mystery.

Dream Rant.

2010-12-22T18:44:00.001-08:00

i haven't written in so long, so maybe now would be a good time to compose my thoughts...
i miss myself, the music, how i sang,
how i had a vision of myself immersed
in melody,
transcendence,
dense purples,
and space-time,
without any dimensions.
I haven't played an instrument for so long.
I've been feeling as if I left myself,
and entered the parallel mundane dimension of reality.
I use to believe that I could thrive in my imagination alone.
I use to have a sense of self,
in my youth, (or ignorance)
that I really felt I could 'hold on'
to something,
even if it wasn't real.
I find with maturation
the ripeness of fruit
submit to a form
of compost,
as if there is nothing
to live for,
like all wisdom has subsided the fairy tale.
I wanted to re-enter the galaxy,
be the child that doesn't see any balance or form,
I want to re-live the world of dreams,
holding on the the songs,
with intense passion,
that made me believe I didn't have to hold on to being here.

the g-d of form.

2010-12-07T03:03:00.000-08:00

it is women that were meant for beauty,
it is women that were meant for poetry.

you take my form,
mold it,
I am some clay-dust,
founded on dense ash,
my body swelters at your beginning.

you play some god,
I become a woman
at your finger tips,
a space to fill
your blackness.

you become the sun,
pouring me with the
experience of beauty,
- it is I who
will worship your radiance.

you create an altar
around my form,
rose petals, sage, sea shells,
fresh fruit-
you ask me to fulfill you,
you beg questions with answer,
I begin to understand what
G-d must feel like.

dear love,

2010-10-24T17:39:00.000-07:00

it is only with this feeling, that i have come to embrace,
our existence, that no longer is "ours,"
but a part of the infinite universe.
as we disentangle our faith,
release the body from it's embrace,
will you feel my form float into ether?
I will vanish to your senses,
but to earth, I am still here.
It is in our death,
that our bodies will merge into being,
shatter all light, and create possibilities,
of Divine Union into existence.
Dear Love,
I have welcomed you here,
now moments have bestowed upon us,
only memories,
gardens,
a yearning for dreams.
Must we always part so illusive to the eye?
I cannot grip my hands enough
to engage memory.
It is here and now,
that I sit with the sorrow
deeply lit above the rib cage.
I ask of my becoming,
why dost the journey tread with pain?
The journey, the voice says,
in search of love is,
like the journey in search of God.

bird man.

2010-10-17T17:15:00.000-07:00

i will seat you at the ledge of a cliff,
and whisper at the base of your spine;
your body will shutter
at the speed of my breathe.

It will tantilze your mind,
into believing,
that a light body is real.

you will press your hands
upon me,
to clear all memory

now.

I will be your arrival,
when Holy Light
comes into being.

You will walk the distant sun,
into the shore,
where the dead birds fall,
bodys for the sand.

The conch shells of mermaids
will drawn you in,
to the whirlwind
of eternal fire.

I float with my body there, a green printed dress,
as if the earth will succumb me.

You gaze into me from a distance,
you know I will be the woman that bears your children.

You can taste my legs,
as if the budding honey suckel,
will only wither with time.

I become the pavement,
figured in the stone-sand,
my feet bare the sharpness
of ocean earth rock.

We become the tobacco
that you infume,
the misdirected post-signs,
the endless pathways that leads
to a difference in crossing.

I am home,
where the rivers are contant,
and there really isn't
a place of 'belonging,"
to a person ,
place,
or thing.

You follow the north wind home,
you are a bird,
towards the center of the sun,
you become,
a pagan to the distant moon.

II. a dream.

You forwarn me, that the time
is coming,
the gates are closing.

A dream of your hand disappearing
into the distance...

Imagine a tunnel,
black, lit at the end
with a glowing white light.

an ascended being
stands before it,

you cannot tell
who it is,

but upon closeness,
that being becomes you.

I remain here where
the light is closing,
realizing the death,
of becoming alive.

I stay tuned into the radio waves,
but your shadows disappear.

I am this, I am.
I am, I am.

a new home to call home.

2010-10-02T16:02:00.001-07:00

i seem to have left what was home and familiar again. i believe i like the discomfort of the strangeness of land. i enjoy moving from my attachment to stillness. always pacing from one earth to the next, i will re-write the map again. i look back to the moments in my life, and how much clarity there is from a distance. sometimes i regret so eagerly going as if there was no emotion in the movement. but then i think back to my dreams and how they are never encumbered by one station or one exit sign. perhaps i was meant to be like a stream, moved by gravity, in the direction of earth patterns.

It's a strange fruit.

2010-08-18T21:08:00.001-07:00

Part of me wants to buy a one way ticket to somewhere, anywhere, and leave my life, forget everything, my love, my family, my dream, and beg and pray as I follow the sun, going to the next place G-d directs me to. Living like a vagabond, ready for adventure. Forgetting the signs, the fortune tellers prediction, the life I've mapped out for myself (including the apartment, the dog, the college degree, and the career), drop all the psychology I'm sorting out in my life, and just live in the moment, totally unattached to the outcome or what any of it means.
It just seems totally cliche for my personality to do something so typical like that, live a circus dream, on the road, chasing rainbows, pretending like G-d is somewhere on this escaping pony to Nirvana.

The path of engagement.

2010-08-18T20:55:00.000-07:00

I wish I could become the skin of my child, when it was new,
before it became torn and bore battle scars of self reflection.
I wish I could love the part of me that never got it together,
that never figured out what or who to devote myself totally to.
I wish I could bare the tongue with ripe fruit,
and exotic verbs, but I never learned the language of the world.
I wish I knew how to express the parts of myself that you'll never understand,
but I trip so clumsy every time I speak with effort.
I wish I could lay in bed, next to someone, totally engaged,
without pretending my life couldn't exist without them.
I wish I could forgive the parts of myself that have been wounded by my mother,
and the parts that she has engulfed of me.
I wish I could become the lotus, with a breath of silence,
fully realized,
and forgive every part of my life that I haven't lived truly,
and every part of it I have.

so many things.

2010-08-17T17:15:00.000-07:00

I've been helping others get organized in their lives, but I feel like such a hypocrite because I need to be doing that for myself. If they only saw my room, and the state of my mind, and how dis-organized my life is. I have clothes piled, scattered mail and documents I barely have time to get to, a list of to-do's that never get done, a pile of books I start and barely get through. I have a travel bag filled with clothes right by my door, as if I'm on my way out. Maybe it's there to remind me of leaving soon, and not getting too settled again. Perhaps my subconscious is ready to go on the road again... But yet the thought of leaving so spontaneously feels like the wound of my unsettled business... I'd love to just leave it all and travel like a vagabond to nowhere, but that's pretty much what I've been doing my whole life, except standing still. I'd love to call the shots, be on the road, forget responsibility, but what am I really trying to be with that? It's not just about making these emotional reactive decisions. It's about being clear on where I want to be and why, which is really confusing because that could be so many things. I guess that's why people get into ruts, because there are so many things to process, so many roads, so many road maps, so much information, it's almost easier to be disorganized in a sea of dis-illusion than it is to sort through it all. I have this idea that one day I'll be clear, it will all be easier, I'll wake up having it together and be able to just be like everyone else, I guess... It's a lot easier to pretend that you have it together than it is to actually have it together, but for now I'll pretend. The universe definitely brought me these dis-organizers to examine myself. The reflective mirror of my life. Now I just need to put it together.

do adventures call for such love?

2010-08-03T18:24:00.000-07:00

we laid beside each other,
in a foreign bed,
in a room that's been visited
by many traveling hippie folk.
we finally made it into bed
after a seemingly endless night
of psychedelics, our heads throbbing.
i wanted to feel his warmth
and allow this moment to become of us,
whatever our minds could venture.
the need for sleep seemed uncertain,
though i delighted at stillness.
he was hesitant,
his body dancing through immense change.
i could feel the different stages of his growth
becoming all at once,
sometimes of a hand motion,
or an irregular lung,
perhaps a few heart spasms.
i wanted to be still for once,
and he wanted to be unsettled.
all i could think of was the empty bed
on the opposite side of the room.
there is calm there.
should i venture alone to the other bed?
do adventures call for such love?

There is a city outside.

2010-08-01T12:38:00.000-07:00

I am staying on the side of a church, in a house that used to be a nunnery. There is a seat on the window in my bedroom, it overlooks the church towers, I feel like the church is my home. This house is now occupied by hippies and local Montreal artists, free spirits, and humble revolutionaries.
I don't spend to much time away from the house. I know there is a city out there, with fancy shops, and real artists roaming the streets, but I am content in the church, with the soft city happening as an afterthought. I guess when you come from one of the most hyper cities in the world, the idea of being entertained in another city isn't the most important part of the experience. When I come to Montreal, it's always to contemplate and be. I never come for fun and parties, though they happen spontaneously. I come here to sit and move slowly with the pace here, so that when I go back home, I can take some of that humility with me. It is gentle here, and it brings me into a gentle space. I dream of being that gentle, that artistic all the time. I would like to dream here, unending-ly, and not feel obligated to move at the speed of an entire hyper metropolis. The kind of New York urgency is felt for miles, at long distances, I can't escape it when I'm there. That is why I escape to be with my love here, my dreams, my ideology. I am more carefully here, though no less forgiving. I am never ready to leave here, though I feel too edgy to ever fit in.

I am here.

2010-07-30T10:21:00.000-07:00

I am a different woman when I am here. I fall in love. I were dresses from other parts of the word. Dresses with palates oozing color and bright dreams. I don't think about tomorrow, or the next minute. I live with the energy here. I am awake to the memoir of my life. My heart is at a different rhythm, that matches slow pulsing waves. G-d energy lives there.
In this city I come to gather my different selves. I play with the colors of this cybernetic city that wilts at the thought of the future. I guess that is what it means to be present.
I meet people here that don't think of the life with money, or creating a generic brand of living.
There are fountains here that spew in the middle of day light, children that notice the sky over the sidewalk, and plants that have more authority than paper.
I am not my mothers daughter here. I have no attachments in my life. I don't need to pray to feel connected. I don't have to eat, but I do because it brings me pleasure.
I am a different woman here. The woman my friends have never seen. A woman that's not questioned for having frail skin and a obtrusive figure. I am hidden within the color-scapes, within the broad day lights, and summer wind. There is too much beauty here, even for me. Feminine beauty is worshiped within the structures. You can tell, by how the glass forms over the rainbow lights, and soft stone fittings. And how nothing is aligned with rulers. It's just formed for human touch and feel ratio.
Everyone is soft and feminine here. You cannot live here and be destructive. It is not within the natural structure.
This is the only foreign town I can visit and not feel like I need to be looking for beauty. Just the mere fact of being here aligns me with it.
I am when I am here. I am here.

Montreal!

2010-07-28T15:57:00.000-07:00

It is my fourth or fifth trip to Montreal. It is a beautiful city that always awaits me, like a lover from a foreign town. So careful, so calm, there is nothing I must do when I am here. I am just here and that is enough. I came this time to understand my relationship to it, can we be together for more than just a rendezvous? Would one want to live in their most favorite, beautiful city? To share a life with your wild lover? Aren't lovers meant for random meetings, entwined in the dream that in a moment it will all be over, and nothing will ever be quite the same. Would I taint such a romance?
Or should I leave moments of intrigue, question...
for my heart to constantly yearn for this place...
to come back to...
to come alive again,
when I am here,
and all heart melting dreams
wind into
one
tiny
moment
on a bed,
in a Hotel,
with foreign love affair,
"je ne peux pas de vous voir."
(i can't wait to see you)

gorgeous

2010-06-14T19:42:00.001-07:00

he said "you are gorgeous in every way."
to how many women?
that thought is suicide.

your god love.

2010-06-14T19:30:00.000-07:00

where does my love go?
into the ocean?
wild with the wind...
it cannot be tamed,
it is of god,
like a monster,
god of mirrors,
god to the sea.
i release into it,
and let it free
to ebb and flow
eternally,

into

the universe of many.

beauty stain.

2010-03-21T18:02:00.000-07:00

love,
the pretty eye
that draws you over,
around the meadow sweeping,
like lace candy,
apple seeds with regret.

and in silk breasts,
you are drawn in,
lips of warm pink
the touch of woman to ruin
your noble heart,
with legs, statuesque.

i hold the lilacs
in my perched breast,
satin upon silk,
for spring to notice,
yet wind speaks silence.

gravity at my center
pulls, and all soil evaporates
into the ether,
i breathe,
my teeth sink into skin,
you are new again.

in my little mind,
your heart decays,
spring flowers reverse order,
time rewinds itself.

and the snow petals arrange f l a w l e s s l y ,
above your bed,
with sleeping pillows,
and willow dreams.

remember last w i n t e r
when you shared all sacredness?

another o n e,
you thought was
beauty.

sunflower girlfriend.

2010-01-19T18:34:00.000-08:00

you are

with your beautiful girlfriend,

in her room,

as the light shines in,

the sun feeds her,

you recite pablo neruda,

it makes her feel real,

sometimes you wonder

if she is.

make me the queen of your lust.

2010-01-15T12:05:00.000-08:00

i love the body that feels too heavy for me to hold. a thick, dense mass of ocean forming weight around skin. i fill it with chocolate, sweet bitters, and dark ecstasy. i am not afraid of it. underneath it moves me, repressed sexual emotions of my hidden 3rd sun. mars rules it with an iron fist; my body sweat collecting, at the bottom, dense carnal memory. i dress it up, all bound with power, this fertile love, and inside me, little star bombs explode. i imagine that my mind is wrapped around a flower bud (my body-a goddess) and i eat aphrodisiacs alive. i let the cells enter me and soothe me into my immortal young womb. i swift the mylk throughout my body, layed on skin, parts that grow out of form. he (who devours me) loves me when i'm innocent and malleable like that. it is when i am with he that i become unwound from memory, the dark fertile queen, devouring all mortal passion into dust.

what i want...

2010-01-15T11:59:00.000-08:00

i want to get the toxins, chemicals, and junk out of my blood.
i want to move my body and dance ecstatically.
i want to unravel the spine, and let divine light move through my nervous system.
i want my mother to understand, let go, breathe.
i want love everywhere and all.
i want to wake up clear, bright, and joyous with the life force.
i want g-d in my cells, perfect divine order.
i am what i want...

someday soon...

2010-01-13T08:09:00.000-08:00

someday soon i will return. for now it is speed, technology, green tea, and sweet potatoes. and when love calls, warm cocoa with cinnamon and hot spice. oh the winter and the frozen trees!

a list; what we were meant for...

2009-12-11T06:36:00.000-08:00

pros:

we were meant for apple seed,

and cherry blossom tea.

we were meant for orange rinds,

and yellow squash flowers.

we were meant for apricots, tangerines,

berries, and tea leaves.

we were meant for lemon fruit,

nut trees, and bitter barks.

we were meant for green leaves,

sunflower seeds, mint, barley, and parsley.

we were meant for green fields, tall grasses,

un kept weeds, flower stalks larger than houses.

cons:

we were not meant for destructive forests,

carbon monoxide, yellow grass, unhappy cows.

we were not meant for farms that breed

dying, infested, bacteria rich food.

we were not meant for the post traumatic

world war syndromes.

we were not meant for the battlefields,

the memory wounds, the need to fight.

we were not meant for the crawling,

running out of time, creating energy filled with greed.

The Piano

2009-12-08T20:05:00.000-08:00

The piano whispers,

a voice crackles, black static.

The ballerina dances on harp strings,

resonating a shadow, a candle in the wind.

why i don't do chores.

2009-12-07T06:51:00.000-08:00

i place a pile of clothes from my chair, to the bed, too lazy to put them in proper order, put them in the closet, on a shelf, underneath ceiling lights, in drawers, i'd rather put them aside, leave them for another day, a time when i am uninspired, leave them for a time when i don't want to sit with the silence. leave them for my mother to find. leave them for my taurus rising and virgo moon to notice. leave them with my electric bill. leave them on my 'to do' pile of things i'll never do. i'd rather... be sipping my overly fragrant breakfast tea, reading emails, thinking of pictures in my head, of why the things in my life haven't worked, or whom i'll be sharing my tea with tomorrow. it is morning again! another chance of not letting the sun shine in my room. another chance at breaking the memory patterns. another chance at swallowing air. oh the air! i think of memories, i don't think of scales, or calenders, or doing things in their right order. i think of glassy stars floating below my ceiling, and how the light hits the room forming rainbows. i think of far away worlds from this one. i think of creation, and the process of undoing. that is why i have no interest in vacuums, it is only when i want to hear their noise that i enjoy them. that is why i leave my floor filled with glitter and paste, gems and sea shell jewelry. that is why i don't do dishes, and i read poetry about immigrants.

The Archeology of Our Life.

2009-12-05T14:53:00.000-08:00

I.
we place bones
to retract history.

we write poems on napkins,
and fake french- k i s s.

our maps arrive continents apart,
how your x ended with my ice age.

and we draw lines from skull to skull,
as if one protruding bone equals a rib?

how my jaw seems listless without teeth,
and your enlarged cranium dating back 1.4 billion years.

who said jesus was a specie,
a specimen of g-d ?

men use anthropology to preach rage,
and long haired spiritual nuns sing the Bhagavad Gita.

in the forest tombs, men dig their hands,
retrace steps, were we here?

we place bones, homo-erectus to homo-humainoid,
all brains - one mouth connecting, acheulean technology.

the fossil sites gave us clues to our rite,
the white architecture of our ancestor.

II.
the black hole to the volcano stone,
the imprint of hieroglyphs on cats.

i want to go where the mammoths go,
roam the tusks of pure pearl.

i want to hunt in the berry blossoms,
collect fruit for our tea.

we will leach the acid, lead, mine
the sacrum to the spine.

bind the head to the saw stone,
count the teeth on a mauer,

measure the distance of jaw imprint,
alternate x-rays for geology,

the zoo will be our breeding ground,
will you meet me there upon arrival?

the energy of g-d; in his name.

2009-12-05T14:37:00.000-08:00

little hands,
stucco,
the energy of g-d.

grace the birds,
all windows seeped with steam,
foam,
words.

7129342,
finding the names of his, divine,
until all combinations
1 8 0 , 2211211, 0.00662
equal his name.

or all forms equal values to large
to distribute,

but you say,
you'll buy my a texas instrument

so we can input data,
formulate on print,

discover Egypt again,
roam the Sirius A or B galaxy,

jump off the milky way,
unto our descent from Rome,

into the Eckasha,
I will follow you

to the silver cord,
into infinite beginnings,

where your hominid winged lion roar.

en-joy; in vitro, viva la heart.

2009-12-05T12:56:00.001-08:00

i want to enjoy us,
we are still young,
hidden in the heart,
young yearning of expression,
young joy,
young wounds that are already healing.

i want to know you
as you are
in your birth,
before you grow

to smart for my words.

i want to nurture you
with a breast
and a plate of honey,
lemongrass, perhaps poppy seeds.

i want to remember growing
u
p- words, expanding,
how little i knew,
how fast the future flew

innocent fragrance into playing,

castles in the rain.

i want to backwards my wisdom,
and come home with idiocy.

i want to play with your sun fire,
and cast fiery orange rainbows into your homage.

i want to dance the bad wind away,
and inside fire, dress you up with water.

but,
you are brilliant with your passive lights
shining distant mirrors to the cold sirens/

you live your heart freely in expression,
i wish my tea uttered the same silence/

sputtered by the wings,
your lips are admired,
slivers of golden mane,
how those delicate bandaged cuts
remind me of how
your love
casts me ~
free

lotus in the rain.

2009-12-03T19:10:00.000-08:00

you imagine a jewel rippled across the sky,

you imagine my name painted in dark acrylic oil,

you imagine love blind, gentle, and sweet/

you dream in colors,

you dream in jade.

i picture tall buildings and sky rises.

i picture silhouettes, women of gangs,

i picture long legs and tv screens blistered by the night blue,

i imagine your memory tattoos,

i imagine our hands colliding.

i see future in the blasphemy,

pink silver moon.

we lay colorless by the waves,

impressions of a soft violet light,

like mother of pearl on sand,

against the crystal glow of oceans,

far away on distant ships,

across one dimensional galaxies

maps,

we gather,

across a crown of thorns,

in the eden bushel,

playing with the victory,

playing with the fire.

journal of an ordinary day.

2009-11-27T19:49:00.000-08:00

it is today that i feel, like going to bed dirty, and allowing my body to expand in all directions, until the skin stretches like little sea weed, and the salt body forms glass. i am in a panic mood, thinking not enough, for my heart mind has more muscle than mind has memory. the common words fall to the bank of a stream. i am without wisdom for today. as i lay progressing in the tantalizing gesture of tomorrow, i reap no satisfaction in exploring the waveforms of hemi-sync modular brain default. pumpkin cream pie , too much sugar again. even though i'm healing, i wonder if i'll ever fully be healed. is that what life is? to process and heal, and when we heal we die, or perhaps birth new life. i can use a new life, a new birthing, perhaps this time the birthing canal can be the entire cosmic atmosphere, and i will have a giant mother, and no fear. oh the pleasure in no fear. oh the pure ecstatic joy in no fear within love. how i dream to devour the cake of mermaid flowers and space moss.

hoya.

2009-11-26T19:25:00.000-08:00

Oh, this Hidden land,
buried black sand
and pearl memory.

The colossal builds
the spiral out of mineral stones.
How their math,
becomes a perfect angle,
in God order.

In the Sea Rose,
the pink quartz forms,
light to bury the ash,
in it,
Our emerald heart centers,
frozen to the beat of time.

The Stellar wind
on the Sea Pony blankets,
mind with form,
time without rest.

She holds conch shells
against the noise,
to hear the echo,
voices,
of white pyramids,
the jeweled resonance center.

moon godhouse.

2009-11-26T18:49:00.000-08:00

In the silver dance,
radiant blue,
the hieroglyph birds,
blessed feathers,
and burnt flower shells.

Our Fathers sang,
Cosmic Crystal Prayers,
"ah-Ta',
a-RU
E-Sa."

We come to remember.
We come without memory.

Activated shields,
as a flame of amber,
burnt wool of skin,
fed smoke to high mountains,
Oh, the code of land,
Earth flowers buried among
the Thunder.

And to the Kristic Moon,
all Rivers shall flow,
gliding into Pale Silver & Gold.

Blessed are the water spirits,
for they shall seek
the kingdom of the Coral Sea.

Blessed are the Moon trees,
for their roots grow under dreams,
as all spirits remain free.

--------------------------------------------------------------------
*ah-Ta' - Now Be
a-Ru - Inner Sun
E-Sa- Always and Forever

*as found on the keylonticsdictionary.com website.

movements.

2009-11-26T18:36:00.000-08:00

it is in the memory
hidden gold with black,
the raw structure of tigers eye,
lenses handcrafted,
silken butterflies.
it was on my shoulder,
freedom found,
careless,
i rode a train home.
oh, how my mother
forgives,
only saints,
and all loveless,
as a womb,
i remain.

blade.

2009-11-16T10:07:00.001-08:00

spare me jealous jewels

faceted on the mermaid breast.

spare me from lust,

golden barrel of dispense.

spare me from high hope,

the energy does not bind well.

love me, encased in a decadent
horizon.

love me, from my selfless
exploit.

undue, onto me all prior
engagements.

enrapture the trigger
points,
to my unwilling
masculine sex fire.

the forgotten dance.

2009-11-14T22:18:00.001-08:00

she dances with the wind as it blows through the minds of many, hers is shattered mirrors upon glass ceilings. she moved towns so she could change her name, put on a new face, but still ended up like the brothel 42nd street dancing queen. i remember my jealous bruise peeling off the edges, men that quarrel for such extreme sacral-ness, there is lust in the blood orange. there is deep black in the memory of her ritual, how it haunts her dreams and caves in many blank hearts. heart? what is in the bottom of pits? can you grow them in seeds of sewn stomach? hearts don't grow on cement sidewalks, like the oak trees do. hearts don't grow black. the pits are fertile with respiration, she breathes new life, Ahh. let us dance until the memory goes black.

when love calls.

2009-11-14T22:09:00.000-08:00

who said love comes

with out pain?

when those you love

fall to death,

or wither away,

is it love

that's scorned our fragile

emotions

into flesh and wound?

For when love comes

unwillingly,

it comes free

from the burdens

that bare it witness.

It comes for you

when you fall away from here.

It comes for you

when you are worn

from battles lost.

It comes for you

when you've forgotten

yourself,

memories,

sacredness.

It comes for you,

alone in the dark wind.

It calls for you,

when you are no longer

here.

sea wood.

2009-11-12T20:32:00.000-08:00

i am wood,

roots sewn to the ground

deep, embedded with

crimson red,
moist tentacles,
skull of a sea head.

the illusion.

2009-11-05T04:41:00.001-08:00

sometimes it's your soft skin
that brings me to the stillness.

and in between all rainbows
and black clouds
there could never be any
sunshine on your window.

you live with blood dreams.

sometimes it's the fruit
of closeness,
on the roof of a tongue
that calls your name back.

can you forget
the forests?
emerald green,
where love,
constant love,
we held in our bodies.

remember the goddess lights?

2009-11-03T20:10:00.001-08:00

how does love grow?
in the window,
through the corners...
would you know
how love she looks?

Black Moon

2009-10-20T20:23:00.000-07:00

Look at your hands,

How they run,

Grandeur in all their porcelain comparison.

Do they reap the fruits,

of the maidens who've sewn,

leaves of pit into the ground?

Do they hold my head steady,

When you severe the throat

From the opening of white

Light?

The lilies in the forest,

Why do they grow?

Crooked, in the damp freeze.

All the planets

With there cool breeze,

Frozen over the black cloud.

Over there,

How they run from you,

Little claws stomach,

Sea shells, spiraling,

On the silver blade of

Blue.

Oh, the black moon.

god: question

2009-10-17T17:08:00.001-07:00

and in all darkness you call... why have i not heard you before? was it I that closed the door to infinite beginning?

how humble I become when you show me the bruises, the torn skin, the smell...

why must I lay here in truth knowing that no perfection exists unto you?

it is in disgust that I rage, and with extreme love that I ask for vision,

how have you come here?

and what am i to you?

funny and strange.

2009-10-11T14:28:00.001-07:00

it is funny
how when we meet,
the room fell
into pieces,
like a puzzle I could not solve.

and god found it strange
how you could have love over again,
so he let you go,
with any one, be,
and have ease with it.

but to me,
he left a difficult task,
so i could nurture and grow
into life,
a light in the dim edge of hope.

marriage: to rilke.

2009-10-11T14:05:00.000-07:00

we carry wrapped around
our head and hands,
the talisman of sanction,
the communion of bondage.

how steep our chapel roars,
from the hill within the bells,
angled to measure,
all frequency frozen.

the wind chimes
in revolution,
twirl the dagger to the wound,
she speaks in silence,
her song for the meadow.

and the laurel bush,
swallowed inside itself,
eternal beauty,
unto thorns like a rose.

G-d

2009-10-11T13:22:00.000-07:00

i am totally yours god
..if only every lover could be like you.

photography

2009-10-11T13:08:00.000-07:00

it is with ease,
and light,
slight distortion,
you color her,
with your mind,
beauty betrays you.

we could have
...
with love..
..gone away
further..
..cascaded
...
intimate with rage,
beauty to shadow,
permanent ink
on the sulfured bell flower.

how you despised
any constancy
with eros,
how afraid and fragile,
in the form of love,
you become hollow.

still, with my body, love: where do i meet you?

2009-10-11T12:15:00.000-07:00

i am with my body, still,
as the morning cup of light,
a journey from
wild imagination,
only breath brings me back.

i cup my hand
under my breast,
it is silk with sheets,
a play of shadows,
finger puppets to the dark.

dark memory
with transient wind,
carried to the shore,
my sea shells in pink,
oh lover,
will you be there?

to those places
with winged smoke,
and cool street jazz,
water glass
and fountain fire
impressed upon the scene,
will you dance me there?

i'm to the garden,
soft, supple, moving
particle
of electric light,
to the memory,
it deceives me.

Honey,
oh how i crave,
the saccharine high,
to devour,
such sweet wax
and flower sex,
on my tongue,
dry and sticking,
like love
complicated to the senses.

Our Hollow Earth

2009-10-09T05:18:00.000-07:00

...deep within the crater
of the earth center,
a sun spins,
an island of lost memory remains,
an orchid of the valley,
honey bees & wax kingdoms,
crystal ships, and
the center of the heart lotus.

The Unicorns in all there glory
still sing,
"High, oh,
The Priestess come,
save us from,
the blood of Virgin reign.
Gather Almighty,
the children of the brave,
forces of the star seed
from the cosmic milky way.
Down, down
trickle the star lights,
until
all the Universe
becomes again."

And the flowers bud,
deep to our surface,
the sun with vibration,
echoing into the sea...
The ships are coming,
as the legends say,
and the Priests shout,
"The book will set us free!"

mother.

2009-10-03T19:52:00.000-07:00

my mother was born,
on a full moon,
during a rain storm,
it shattered so hard,
as delicate mirrors do.

mother,
how you arrived
gentle and frail,
giant like the wind,
a cup of morning bells
in the dawn.

gorgeous & bellowing,
how high the tides rose,
as she comes,
how she came,
lost to the sea of dreams.

in her flesh,
bare with white,
lilies frozen in their shell,
mimicking cloud berries,
how her wisdom grows.

and in the sea wind,
merchant tales,
the saint maidens lulling,
prayers to the sea gods,
she becomes,
moon stone,
rock,
jade green
among black.

2009-10-03T04:04:00.000-07:00

mother, how you arrive
gentle and frail,
giant like the wind,
a cup of morning bells
in the dawn.

gorgeous & bellowing,
how high the tide rises,
when she comes,
with storm and wisdom.

2009-09-27T00:38:00.000-07:00

i'm so torn and stretched along the edges, yet i love how wicked and real the discomfort is. it's coming out of my belly like a beast, all the mistrust and fear, judgment, old wounds. i feel like being intimate with myself so that i can see what i am., yet my intimacy is so sexual by nature, and unwound. i'm so swollen with relief that it's all over, and it never really began.
so i keep thinking, maybe we stay away from love because the fear of losing it is so unbearable, so we cling to that which radiates like jewels, sinking in the sea of tension and relief.

chances.

2009-09-27T00:22:00.001-07:00

you gave me a bouquet, wilted purple / violet,
how they flew from my hands,
like deconstructed industrialism.
she's throwing roses, like flowers in her hair.
muses for the ladens in their sorrow.

how careless i could be with your love,
if like glass, pedals shatter, would you trust me?
i'm gentle still, and quiet.
hush, the mountains they are arriving.

i'm no one for you though, with
this glowing heart and burning fever.
i'd burn forever, in these days,
melted soft with wind blow.
oh but you, with the medal armor.
how daring!

my love must fall apart.

2009-09-26T04:35:00.000-07:00

your touch rang through

all alarms disengaged,

all stillness shuttered,

in dreams i took you home.

my arms reached

through the door,

under the bedding,

unto my pillow case,

only fever and desire.

imagination,

difficult to hold,

yet immersed

in complete ecstasy,

i stand transfixed.

land of dreams.

2009-09-22T20:02:00.001-07:00

i read poetry by my bed side

and imagine that you are there,

still words and phrases,

embers to the nightfall,

echoing...

across the land of dreams.

do we continue still,

massive forms unto ourselves,

like the pearl of winter,

damaged and frail ?

oh how sweet the voice,

like burning tulips

in the meadow,

up into the airy breeze.

you are a child of mine,

warm hands,

tiny, beating with the heart,

i listen for an ending.

oh how the tree grows bowed,

unto the earth,

in prayers song,

i am one onto myself,

i am with the last wind.

2009-09-22T13:43:00.000-07:00

i hate it when you're so beautiful like that.

winter

2009-09-19T05:27:00.000-07:00

in the winter,
you were forgotten,
with tiny bones,
shivering,
i thought my flesh
would keep you still.

i remember
the embodiment of a women,
original sin,
the fruit we drank from.

glorious mornings,
with still light,
pounding fire,
edged along the window pane.

i sang so sullen,
with wings,
inside myself,
no melody could nurture you.

how could burden bless,
such frail convultion?

in all memory,
we still bore no blessing,
to our winter fruit.

mind photograph.

2009-09-14T19:11:00.000-07:00

i wish it were easy
to forget your face,
but then the stale blue comes again.
in pictures you radiate,
inside my mind,
the love burned holes,
black holes,
like vacuums inside the earth.
i am form with out color,
sheer innocent,
you loved my nuance,
withered,
paper rays dangling,
spilling words ,
crooked all over you.
with these moments,
held so tight,
nothing came from it,
i thought explosions,
with bursting suns,
our meaning would evaporate,
yet i stagger
on the verge of knowing
that which shall never
be known.
how sublime your secret,
your smile still brilliant in all it's hidden glory,

the ocean view.

2009-09-06T19:06:00.000-07:00

the motion of the waves,
crashing edges,
sea foam collecting,
over thin layers
of earth and sand.

bodies drifting,
sea shells,
aqua rock forms,
mermaids silent,
murmurs forgotten.

white noise,
echoes,
the slamming motion,
curling, like spirals
inside themselves.

no where do flowers form,
just dead sea growling,
the moon swirling,
evolving in a time capsule.

karmic cords of jaded ectasy.

2009-08-29T06:37:00.000-07:00

i wanted us,

while we were still young,

to fall into embrace,

dark embryo

upon dark embryo,

scattered ash,

tracing the earth

with our karmic finger prints.

endless in this embrace,

dancing forever,

the end of time fallen

beneath our winged death.

how your spirit lay beneath me,

not even destiny can spare,

from ecstatic passion

in the womb of love.

i am yours forever.

i am unto you eternal.

i am without myself.

2009-08-29T04:31:00.000-07:00

i am clear clear
like the crystal sun
cascading along
the rivers mountain.

i take home
with me
little birds,
the dawn of the splendid
sensations.

it starts with a question...

2009-08-22T11:46:00.000-07:00

how do we create any soluble form with minds that are tangentially colliding? is it like stars that rise with temperatures and shiver light in the openness? we could speculate for days how there is every wrong, divine to the heat of pleasure. yet, in the silent silhouette of the night moon, all birth becomes exposed. are we naked yet? blanketed along the dark edges, this holiness is pleasant. bring me home sacred floral scents so i can roam in the heavenly fantasy that i am made of god stone. yet peeking through the shadow bushes, crackled soil upon heated metal, the roots have teeth and grow deep. i am no one for such laws, yet these ruins are crystalline structures in the heart of a Buddha sun. the confusion is fancy, but the desire for correction is more gorgeous than the waiting rivers of love.

too dark.

2009-08-15T15:11:00.000-07:00

you think i am dark,
shadow to the wind,
neglecting the current,
it is within me.

you want me to drawn lines
in the sand,
impose structure,
on textures always escaping.

you want me here,
present with the glory,
i find the room full,
i am always sleeping.

you find i am absent,
lost to the sound,
embraced by the unknown,
vast unto the open sky.

how fertile the ground
within me,
no water too heavy,
my seeds burst through concrete.

i grow to the beat of light,
no shelter forms barriers
too large to break through.

all your structures
demand too much attention
to keep together,
there is no space for me.

expand explode my little star.

2009-08-10T19:37:00.000-07:00

my love was too big,
for you
have no room,
no space left empty,
for the massive energy
created by the current,
within my soul,
memories longer than
lifetimes ago,
here winding,
you thought you would expand,
like tiny stars
into dust,
burst,
wished upon,
what's so scary
about expanding?

space body.

2009-08-09T13:59:00.001-07:00

If we hold
to the body
for too long,
will it become
foreign space objects
recycled through time?

my friend...

2009-07-21T05:42:00.000-07:00

When in the sun
the days seemed so long,
like we would never
get anywhere,
feeding time
along the edge
of a silver ship,
glistening to a
black moon.

Carry me to the shore
with a song the will never
grow any one old.

When the days
folded like paper cranes,
along the rocky deserts,
it seemed so far,
that we would never
get lost
with the trees or
shadow the brook's
with broken leaves.

A friend is a friend
of a friend,
though time tells the tale
otherwise.

body memory

2009-07-18T12:41:00.000-07:00

my heart has room
for one more
disclosure,
as you spoke
so many eons ago,
yr hands trembling,
and yr lips quivered,
how soft was the time
when the storm
so sudden,
collapsed.

Cascadia

2009-07-10T19:02:00.000-07:00

Along the shore
her feet bare,
gathering the sand
and all energy collected
at the bottom
of the sphere.

Her dreams fill
the ocean to the brim,
there the fish
call upon
infinite wisdom
to form.

With bare breath,
the lungs collapse
upon air,
all shallow
the movement of water,
hiccuping.

When more silence
meet's a room,
removed from all history,
the body will feel
no more.

Shamed.

2009-07-10T18:56:00.000-07:00

In a room,
I want to be,
thrown against the wall,
hung by my hair,
all meaning lost,
taken with myself.

I'll take the pleasure
and bury it deep
with all my wounds
and misery.

We can forget
any meaning
and displace ourselves,
"Nothing can be done."

How shameless of me
to think with my hands
and never feel what happens
with my heart.

meditation.

2009-07-02T19:46:00.000-07:00

when i go into my mind, there is a memory that waits for me. it is the calm of the sea, the permanent blue, deep light. off the ledge of a cliff, the shore, and all the little life forms beneath it collect tiny pools between rocks, sea weed and algae's grappling, succulent warm mouths. all of life becomes from the color, marshes appear, grasses larger than my frame. i lay my body against the rocks and listen to the ocean breath into me all lost memory. am i a mermaid lost in the vast tranquility? it is sun, burning deep fire into my dream. the light of day mourning each passing sunrise. i could lay forever in this moment.

wings on a beast.

2009-06-30T11:29:00.000-07:00

lost in the highway,
a delicate form
becomes entrapped
by the weight of wind,
a slow hurricane
in the speed of sight.
caught, two wings
of blurred color,
repressed beauty,
a creatures body,
intact with teeth
and little legs.
frozen by the moment,
the fast energy working,
how do we come here?

wildflower desert.

2009-06-26T12:12:00.000-07:00

how does a cactus flower grow
wings on a bird,
and seep warm color,
into the burning sand?

when the nectar foams
slowly off the hills,
the landscape becomes
a sweet marigold orange,
painted with flickers
of the tangent sun.

the golden dawn
mimics life in every form,
lavender lit cacti
upon pink flamed poison roses,
over grown
from the mouths
of a delicate beast,
cut with curious fruits.

where the wild berries drip,
hung from leaves
of prickly desert peaches,
fairy maidens collect
the falling saccharine,
all the bees
and little creatures
drink from life,
every bit
joy,
transcending,
moments
at a time.

this chaos is truth.

2009-06-26T12:00:00.001-07:00

this groundless-ness is beautiful and i am absolutely ecstatic in knowing that i don't know anything about love.

(picture taken from random google search)

The Cell.

2009-06-18T14:53:00.000-07:00

i imagine the cup she drank from

covered with red lipstick,

the smell of summer,

a damsel in soft dresses,

worn with the color, broken.

i imagine little birds,

parading in the tree tops,

better worlds than this one,

leaves that make

impermeable nest,

like the womb of a beast.

i imagine, soaked in glass,

heavy mold and smoke,

collecting at the bottom

of my unconscious,

the well filled

to the brim with

metallic clouds.

How is there no I in you,

when i speak to the shallow air,

words

that become every part

of the entire cell,

cascade.

i imagine the ego,

filtered through water,

unstoppable mass,

glowing like urgency,

split electrical wire,

crackling.

Do I make sense now?

with the tongue that

slowly dissolves,

the wet membrane

of a pumping heart.

the roots of love.

2009-06-18T10:40:00.001-07:00

where do they grow, these roots of love? i try to imagine them, in my spine, healing where the pain collects. i have no recognition of where to put it, or what the shape may be. is it light? does it float like energy? does it have hands? does it form wings? in my unconscious, where the light bears witness, i am too much thought, how do i become? my love i thought, i gave. i found that in my own form, the love i never gave myself. now i ask to become of something that never was.

is love a seed?
where in the black moist earth,
grows roots,
claws digging deep
into the deposits,
until all darkness bears light and grows wings.

2009-06-15T14:00:00.000-07:00

She will save me from a burnt mouth. Her hands formed images in the air. The thin condensation forming around the eyelash. I see images move in the dark, still by the site of fancy blood lines.

matters of love.

2009-06-14T07:27:00.000-07:00

these matters of love have no place here. like a page, i am empty, and there are no words to write. how often does emptiness on a page feel like the tide? in my mind, i am with the ocean. the sun is immediate and always setting, all along the pink morning mist. i go to the border, where sediments remain of the turquoise shells, abandoned suitcase on the shore. i seem to have left myself there.

a cup of sweet licorice.

2009-06-13T20:55:00.001-07:00

i come home to a solitary cup of tea, my mothers garden that had been destroyed, rumors in my mind of all seeds that need to be tended. i drank and tried to write, but sometimes the bitter loneliness is enough. i enjoy the calm. no question of presence or pretense, for i am only with myself. i enjoy the warm heat my body gives out when it tends it's own garden. i feel like soil, the heavy wet smell of dirt and minerals from a dead sea. there is only death here, the flowers that have been ravaged, purple blood mouths, their fallen pedals wounded, my mothers heart sinking below ground, the echoes belt louder, my heart lives under that ground. the sea-goddess will tend our black seeds, sew our mistaken love, bring to us the gifts from the ebbing moon waters. i will speak their tongues, a gift no one bears, of the silver icey ash that liquid volcanoes burst into air.
how my mind falters, on the edge, it remembers mountains and slips off them. how time condones such trepidations. my friends all live along the sea, we are farther and farther away from the crossing ocean, and my love ran away with the moon. how to we bear such longing, the garden that got taken back into the earth, the moon that slipped into the black sea, the dead earth trotting on spent love.
i'll keep in my imagination the smell of red amber, burnt rust, the milky blue waters that sea and earth form. red poison dripping from the oak tree, my heart does not respond, i am mute, awaiting the ether to settle me.

The Victory.

2009-06-07T16:42:00.000-07:00

Damn the Pirates,

and all their cities,

burning dilapidates ,

on the skin of a fruit.

Damn, the Black Irises,

the ship that built

Empire, despair, despair.

Holy, until necessary.

Hold me, hold me.

The dragon queen,

silk serpent, panting,

to the rich smell

of the whiskey breathe,

more, more, more.

Her heart in the hands

of a floozy.

Dame, sugared upon rising,

split lips, cigarettes,

the men dashing.

Oh, the honor,

of the victory!

The Pyre - Lyrics

2009-06-06T16:32:00.000-07:00

dense grapple,
sticking to my teeth,
"here's to the hill on the chapel,
wedding gowns, scaffold,
flowers for the pyre."

we play our love
on victory,
so what?
hung by the sword,
the funeral's a fire.

Ah, the meadow is burning.
Oh no, the people skipping,
dashing
to the silver beat
of the moon,
mo-oo-oon. mooooon. moon by the night on the river of the fire.

taste your lips,
are they not salty?
after the fact,
smooth cannibal,
spit on the mouth
of a black lambed wolf.

you have no hands for me,
your virtue does me no good,
takes my pleasures,
for the thrill of pain.
count my measure,
with the cupid flame.

Pull me, black nausea,
i'm ok,
send me flowers,
on our wedding day.

black seed.

2009-06-05T06:18:00.000-07:00

how could they
have made you
into flesh?
your bones
deserve dirt,
deep dug soil,
where your mind
can burn,
with all your memory.

when will the saints become,
a figure of love?
is it not time,
to turn grave lust
into stone?

my questions beckon
the call of heavenly bodies,
to wreck your mouth,
and bruise your bones,
but the dear terrain
don't move like that.

only black holes
can become,
ancient stars,
and lit reflection.

you are not that
black,
only burnt seeds,
grow on dry terrain.

heart cave.

2009-06-05T05:48:00.001-07:00

My purple heart
is stained black,
hanging in the damp
cave of my chest,
the smoke devours
every breathing cell,
until i am fire
inside myself.

I can hear whispers,
pretended stories of
fanciful love.

I am no where to be found,
where do the rivers meet the sea?

Will the ships come for me?
Rancid men,
beckoning for fair lady's
lucid skin.

I will lay,
feverish,
with heart against stone,
pounding,
the beat of the creation
with a cave in my chest.

Upon stone black minerals,
my body composts to dirt,
I am heavy
when it rains,
through the earth,
my memory will purge.

Earth Bound.

2009-06-04T11:59:00.000-07:00

the water is grounded,

like earth in my mouth.

i am pulling weeds

to sew flowers,

red daffodils,

in the sand,

that speak with

their stomachs out.

Could you sell hydrogen

for roses?

I'd eat them still,

quiet on the ledge

of a century,

her little tongue

does move.

All the pretty

pink silverberry's

that hang,

from the womb

on a spine,

a mothers last dream,

on the wings of a worm.

All the sea guarded soil,

set hands on wet sand,

let rip,

the poison teeth

and all of sin.

Drink poison from the well,

your white porcelain frame

will stain black golden gardens, gray.

In her dream

she becomes,

a silhouette,

a washed

along the tender,

breathing shore.

Await for me,

the angels refrain,

golden letters hung,

of pure blessed fruit.

In heaven,

can we eat

all the sweet nectar

off the silken perennial skin ?

Like bees,

our mouths will mourn,

all the hollow trees,

and fair maidens,

in glistened dresses.

When I speak,

Immortal truth shall come,

and damnation,

like the silver moon,

will become,

an ocean for the sun.

2009-06-03T20:19:00.000-07:00

the stranger you speak,
the stranger i become,
a whisper on paper,
like words on a leaf.

the fire.

2009-06-02T14:39:00.000-07:00

with fingers slipping
you catch me,
i am mid-air,
balancing the act,
between presence
somewhere...

how did we meet?
upon the sacred shrine?
was it you or i
that held great fervor
in the vestal fire?

lost caves
brought shoulder to skin,
hiccuping oceans,
the sea in your eyes.

in the dawn,
the women spoke
blood red roses,
their painful lips,
and crowned gold,
as they chant
the sound of the muse,
she awaits.

burnt upon sage gardens,
made solid into silk,
daughters, breast upon breast,
spinning, milking,
in toxic in all our love,
how the torn bird weeps.

with warmth,
you embrace,
it brings me close,
to silence.

where is the moon?

2009-05-29T18:05:00.001-07:00

when the mouth is absent,
i become hunger.
the dry episode
like desert hearts beating.
yellow tangent butterflies,
how curious the cement beneath them.
where is the grass,
are we shallow land?
in the prisms
flowers grow a vivid contortion.
the moon is rising,
i have no direction.

carnival

2009-05-29T17:50:00.000-07:00

when the carnival comes to town, it always rains. it is dreary, damn, and cold. the carnival lights color the town, flashing, flickering, and pulsing to the melodic drone of the merry music. it is lonely there, a desolate side show, just bright colors beating, an electric dream. i remember as a little girl, awaiting the carnival, the pink sugared cotton candy, the ferris wheel, the fun games and cheap prizes. it always rained though, poured on the first day, maybe with a few hours of sun the second day, but mostly melancholic days. maybe nature was responding to the unnatural presence of fake fun. how removed we become with games and spinning objects. Now that I'm older, the carnival bring nostalgia, and the rain blurrs the electric lights. Painting my memory, vivid dreams re-appear, I am sugered and gleeful, I am in motion, spinning, like my little mind, when the carnival comes to town.

Unburden The Earth.

2009-05-22T12:16:00.001-07:00

you are not flesh,

nor water,

your bones rust,

not even salt remains.

by the marshes,

they lay your swelled body,

dirt, some ashes,

gray shallow sand.

scattered around the post,

blue morning bells,

not even death can silence earth.

the wind in every direction,

how confused nature remains.

the fauns pipping some folk melody

mermaids untame.

do oceans stand in your way?

let me undue

the soil,

un-bare the dirt,

my hands deep,

i will make the rocks of you,

burnt minerals

and dry blood.

Fake French Kids

2009-05-22T12:02:00.001-07:00

I. lust

She is there for you

to look at,

to read,

distort patterns,

piss on & off,

to pretend love on,

fake sex,

make believe with.

II. love?

Holds bodies up to the light.

Some mornings only

sunrise can mimic presence.

III. the next day.

Trashed talked,

makeup worn,

coffee over done,

droned out silence,

breakfast moves slow.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

i'm experimenting here with the post modernism of love.

Montreal.

2009-05-17T19:58:00.001-07:00

Something happens when I am in Montreal. It is this energy that I am with. Transitional moments in my life synchronize around my very sacred journey to this beautiful European-esque city. I have no energy to even put into words all of the delicate details that require to be versed so poetically. It was a timeless experience where very vintage structures surrounded a very modern concept. It was french words, romantic architecture, edgy fashion, art vagabounds, gypsy music, future food, cyborg future party, multi dimensional-digital media art, deep energy work, a step into myself, breath, passion, love, rhythm. It is time wraped around itself and me moving forward into the future. It is a deep memory.

The Sun Don't Shine Here Like My Heart Shines.

2009-05-02T17:41:00.000-07:00

The sun beats across the ocean,

it is miles away,

with the memories I left behind,

I can hear the delicate roar

of winds,

sea shells sputtering,

time overlapped.

When the tide drifts,

I am drawn back

into the last sunrise.

The distance is calling.

There were places I let go,

strangers with stories,

shadows sullen on street corners,

fruit that dripped permanent nectar,

overdrawn trees ebbing under skies.

I met a bird man

in the lost city,

he told me never to miss

what I have lost,

and to only

cherish what I have found.

His voice decays in my mind,

with the oceans,

and the cutting winds.

In my memory I am there.

It is only a dream,

the placid landscape

disappears.

Queen of Noble

2009-05-02T09:40:00.000-07:00

Make of me a Queen.
Feed me mouths of violet-still-
exotic orchids.
I am no match
for all the
delicate
and noble
virgins
that dawn the morning.
They are rare
and pretty.
Oh, how pretty
the little ones are.
How meek and protected
the porcelain skin dolls are.
I am not one of such measure.
I am of mountains.
I am the rocks that feed the rivers.
I am the fury that rages the storm.
I hail thunder with heavy weight and deep resonance.
But my honor,
I am gentle too,
like the streams that
devour the banks.
I am useless like the tides.
I can run oceans through the earth.

love.

2009-05-01T18:47:00.000-07:00

In the beginning love is simple. Your heart beats, everything splendid. The first memory of love has no pain, no hurt, no idea of anything less than ecstasy. You are in the moment of pure bliss. Remember when your heart moved and you felt so unimaginably decadent with joy? Those innocent to love experience pure love, because once we have in our mind the "idea" of love and build expectation, it is like a train bound for no where. It is in the presence, where there is no concept of what should be, but just the sheer elation of true union.

spring air, ah.

2009-04-26T07:47:00.000-07:00

the heat is becoming apparent, was it not just winter seconds ago? the transition seemed slow and erratic. i am joyful for the warmth of the sun and the color of the flowers. the cherry blossoms have bloomed, they are for a brief moment, the most gentle beauty. i love the feeling of spring in new york. people exude joy and the feeling of going outside is plentiful. my body seeks the calm of moderate weather, the green grassy-ness, all the bloom excited into being. all melodies become spirited, the state of things so continuing. the feeling of spring, mono no aware.

The Cunning Splendor.

2009-04-11T21:15:00.001-07:00

when sadness comes to me,
i am drawn out,
a leave tattered under a tree;
wilted by the slight
thrust of wind,
i am swollen.

when the echoes come to me,
i am silent,
whispered beneath branches;
the thoughts of air
gently compressed
where i am buried.

under shadows,
awake by day light,
everything forgotten,
we are new again.

bring me pleasures,
so i can pursue them,
and my body
can become
a burden of your lust.

take me places,
until i can taste them,
so my mind reposed,
will channel,
all the islands of the sun.

we will masquerade around,
beneath the cities that emit
sharp lights
and cunning splendors.

we will dance endless,
oh how we will move,
toward the abominable
present
that no longer
seeks our despair.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

this is about how things are never how they appear, or how you wish them; the picture full with lush and color, yet underneath, a very morose existence. we live in a way, where things are pretending constantly; the grand mirage. some depression to that, a feeling of never achieving pure satisfactions because there are intricacies that tell tall tales. in my poem, i wish to annihilate all that is not a true representation of the highest. it is part of my journey through my hidden true self. it is dark, the poem, with hints of vibrant colors. at least that's how i perceive it.

Oh the world !

2009-04-10T18:51:00.000-07:00

what are those,

...falling from the sky?

little unicorn flowers?

we catch them

with our minds,

one by one,

clenching in our

little fingers,

can we eat them?

purple radiant starlite,

o', how they beam !

colors into the night,

the city elaborate

with laughter,

laughter every where,

voices chiming,

into the past,

our memories,

of karmic highways,

the moon lighting

our path,

the forest under

our feet,

the earth,

deep within

the iron core,

magnets,

vibrating,

the frequency,

sound shifting,

ultimately silent,

escaping us,

oh the world !

so funny

and strange,

with it's comedy

and rain,

falling,

little unicorns,

like flowers,

do we eat them?

death of beauty.

2009-04-10T10:33:00.000-07:00

I hear the whispers,
cathartic voices murmur,
the feminine groan,
destruction,
home after home.

You respond to faces
that burden in the rain,
mouths that accentuate
trepid composition.

Are you the men,
the men that beseech
ownership
of the silent Virgin reign ?

O', Come to your glory,
Come riding with fury.

I ask of you
this once,
have we no life
other than this?

Is it not just me
who speaks
beautiful poetry
and reads,
through the minds
of trees,
and dances
on grassy plains,
awaiting the
Mother to come ?

It is everywhere,
Goddess decay,
we drink poison,
and let out fervor,
as our shadows
gently skip
echo beneath echo,
tortured limbs swelling
with water.

The ocean will
eat us alive,
and these moments
will shelter us
through storm and disdain,
where the sky
breaks,
split-
tiny particles,
we become
winds,
branches,
ashes,
death...
be this, beauty?