Got a threesome that’s awesome & just needed someone to write them, I think, somehow they chose me for the word juggle. I read these with fish-lips, open & moist. Where? Who? So raw a fork would not stand up in them.
It’s hot again. Back in my bathing suit flower coverup with the fan white noising.
This morning the blog entry caught me by the shoulder & spun me around tho I told it I didn’t have time for this, I had to be out & away soon & still with a shower to take & a forelock to tug to Powers but it pushed me back down & I wrote, putting on this song to write by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3wKzyIN1yk Seems it needed a specific sound track. I still made it in time to unlock the door correctly & put up the coffee.
Tonight I wrote the following – another lashing with the lonesome whip but again, just the words climbing up & oozing out from some deep well I thought covered, locked down, inaccessible. No longer needed as a proof of life. So I lay no claim to these: they are kitewords pushing past everything else to fly & I have found the strings in my hands.
Something is breaking loose here, I run about picking up pieces with no way of putting anything together.
It gets no better…
I DIDN’T KNOW
I would live my life alone
Hovering on non-existent
How could I
Why would I?
How do I not pass a razor over my wrists
Were I truly alive
I might be made of memories,
I might have a love or, God be praised!, a lover
I might have been a woman someone could take by the hand
To an altar or a bedroom
To be made holy.
I am not stupid
These words will say it so.
I am too wise over time & experience.
But I sit in the middle of a road
Going both ways
To wonder at direction.
I did not know life could be this way
Or that mine would.
That my hands would be the only caress
Of time over me, that
My words would be my mirror
My reflection growing old with me
Mapping new arcs, new trails to play.
I did not know life could become a lump in the throat
A deceased cat, wounds that never heal
I would not have laid good money across the table
For a deal so rank as this.
For the numinous moments
I have paid. For the wonder of miracles
Experienced on beaches or in backyards
For love dancing always beyond reach
Always an admiration with the space in between
An uncrossable moat, an inaccessible moment
Where someone would love me in return.
Ah yes, I know about God & angels & I have
Talked with the elementals who grew roots on cuttings
For me, on plants I gave away to accommodate
That which walked alive around my life.
This has been the place where I’ve learned independence
From all else, over all else, above all.
This is the location I have reached
Where the familiar & the strange
Suffer each other in a silence broad & unbroken.
Here, of the here & now, this place
Where a heart breaks once again, but there is no blood
Only a sound unuttered.
The Gift Refused
Still trembles, being laid down
Walked away from.
Still holds its own elbows
Twice broken & crooked.
Weak with incomplete repairs
For some wholeness is never achieved.
The trick is to make it not matter
To find that sweet place where it no longer matters:
This imperfection, where a cup never reaches the lips
Held in that hand, where a blessing given from it
Is still whole, still love, from which light
May emanate, inexorable.
And of course, it does
Of course, this hand passes through the walls
I have built with it, the crooked holds with just
A rhyme of leaking.
I have grown into my imperfections,
I have lost the idea of flawlessness
I think I tripped over it in darkness, an absence of light.
I did not turn it off myself,
Nor did I protest its dimming-out.
It does not matter to no longer be strong
To not care when my sins turn inside out & show to all
Faint, devoid of grace.
I have none of this & all of that & still am clean
As my God made me.
FAME WALKS AWAY
Fading like wallpaper in the sun
Dim & unremembered; it never was
Let alone did it crowd my doors
No paparazzi smoke outside the house
Awaiting my emergence
They are long away on wings of molten fame
Where everything happens to anything
Just like they were told it would.
It’s okay, I’m still friendly
I haven’t bitten any hands offering me food
Nor snarled at those who forget & forgive
With whom I’d be more comfortable should they now.
The old feelings do not abate
They just distance.
But when brought ‘round again
Show up my imitation absolution
For what it is: I am still that
Creature of sin & imperfect reparation
Losing light as if it never was.
And that’s okay, after all.
This was never supposed to be the ultimate 24/7
But it was good as it gets
Up to here & that will return.
The ineffable joy of my being
Will refill on the next high tide
At some point, I will no longer notice
What never was.
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