Sunday, 21 January 2018

sunday nights in america

I get an eerie sensation on a sunday night  standing on the precipice of the death of a weekend. I get the kind of rattled only a vanilla shake in an American diner can quell, listening to Elvis on the jukebox with friends, in a booth upholstered in automotive leather, flirting and killing off time.

honestly does

We had our best moments when nothing was going on: laughing at our inside jokes, playing silly meaningless games, being kids with one another, walking to the corner store, talking to strangers...being with desire. I am at peace to have a single one who knows my heart. For now, life cannot hurt so bad as it honestly does. I wanna help you. You make it all make sense.

Thursday, 18 January 2018

await not

await not the rains
await not the miracle
await not the sun
await not

let the rains
be the miracle
know the sun
await not

may your pain
lead you to your peace

may the rains
may the miracle
may the sun

await not
await nothing
may you be
awakened

Wednesday, 17 January 2018

untitled

I am only a small creature traveling in small circles radiating with the onset of the rains. My insignificance is something to behold. To think life could get so intricate as you and me. Here's a multicolored marble rolled out to meet us. Give it to the hollow of a pocket. What luck!

impress.ion

A stamped imprint is an impression you have on the world. Once the ink dries, the thing upon which you (the idea of you) have been fastened, takes flight into the crosscurrents of daily life. These energy fields we run in are countless! Everything changes. You can become something else in an instant! Years later we will all understand. Only then may they know by what became of your impression, what they missed.

wednesday again

I took off my glasses so I could see you clearly. Out from under our shared history. Outside of cultural narratives and bias. Free from all rumor and gossip and media glaze...i loved what I saw.

Sunday, 14 January 2018

tamales in little saigon

We got tamales in little saigon on a sunday morning. We were arguing over petty nonsense in the car. I admit I get a little restless in love, for the  idea that some day the one I love I may not hold any longer, i may not have any longer, disturbs me so...my heart recedes into a protective place under a sleeve, like the tamale wrapped in skin and folded in plastic.

projection of poor memory

You taught me how to survive. I taught you how to thrive. The tables before were turned, and I experienced a deep despair like the world no longer could care...even someone who feels forgotten will be remembered by someone they may have overlooked. I wonder if the feeling of forgotten is a projection of poor memory? 

circulation

If the universe is ever expanding then let us be expansive, too, in our generosity and openness, seeing each sunrise as an invitation to explore our communities and discover. This is hard to implement after trauma. I looked inward and outward and realized: becoming bright and friendly and inquisitive, open-hearted again, is one of my secret projects and clocking several years now. The world does not need me. But I am better off in circulation than out. 

Thursday, 11 January 2018

misconceptions

If you decided to confine half your life to a tiny cube where you were walled in and given security in the form of money, health insurance, a predictable daily routine, comfort, artificial light, food, a title to define yourself by; would these conditions result in sanity?

misconception

If you lost someone you love, mysteriously, and devoted your life to finding them because you believed they were alive and you hoped to be together once again; does that make you crazy?

Tuesday, 9 January 2018

book. quote

Here's a line from my new book...
katya 12.25.17
"Eyes like full moons…thumbs rubbing ink to a fade can no longer be read, just described, each curve of every letter glowing like moonlight, expanding in all their hundreds of thousands of spectacular finishes! See the flourishes, you lucky kid. Looking for my sister in her pale blues or barefoot could be a keystroke away, a daydream, attacking a search engine with a heart in America, pulling lightly on the ends of twisted plastic until the whole thing rolls over and out, examining the condition of our condition, concentrating on the ionic bond even when it hurts. Life, I love you, for in you I find it all, and still so much unknown to me. Kell. Where are you?"

Monday, 8 January 2018

young noir

rain was licking the drainpipes and teasing the window glass like a young film noir star throwing shade ona honeymoon killing spree in 1953. the screen was silver and we polished it, too. me and you. maybe we're nobody. in the outskirts of a small city, you gave me midtown Manhattan, 1922. I felt like someone whose been kissed on both cheeks. enough of the valley. we went for  Sierras. the high of high peaks.

Sunday, 7 January 2018

give. of purpose

Gave you my heart after all the heartbroken, unspoken, the best chance I ever risked it all on

I gave you my heart and
you loved me out of blue
and all the colors run not
so disturbing
now

when I was alone the
monochrome was familiar
not unkind

I got used to the singleness
now I am used to
you

capture

if you captured my heart
would you break it?

the days
they are long
and i don't believe i
can survive

Saturday, 6 January 2018

made american

I was made American. One shoreline will never do, I need two. Life gets better with wind and rain and all the idol rock stars sucked into the muddy banks of sound.

Thursday, 4 January 2018

toxic chocolate

a headache kept me in bed longer than usual. the cats were annoyed and would not let me sleep very long. was it the weather or did I need coffee? I was having terrible dreams where someone stole my bicycle and some big kids wanted to rough me up. they chased me up several flights of stairs after I came last in an ultramarathon. I think it was all the peppermint bark and chocolate, gone toxic to my system. choctox syndrome got me down. I'm pulling out all the stops. no more ovaltine in my coffee.

Wednesday, 3 January 2018

world full of plastic

The greens are alive and you know, only turn red when you're not looking. red is a just a mask for how they really feel. blue. in a world full of plastic, you would be too.

Tuesday, 2 January 2018

11.7

2018. you will be with me and i, with you. we will not question. we will take on the world, every morning after prayer, and fight the good fight, long as the day gives light. then may we rest on the rooftop in Oakland. watching the sun set, either side of the seven eleven. then, in the incandescent, your heartbeat is mine.

what you think of yourself

a parliament of youth came together in the U.K. to talk about issues and I watched them on c-span. the most spirited among them stood up from the green leather cushions and waved arms and smiled toward themselves, you could see. I was drawn in by the process. these kids with their fantastic regional accents trying the whole chamber, the whole house of commons, for some eloquence and persuasion. may be what you think of yourself in the end that triumphs.