Installment # IV

The love was developing at a rapid pace, maybe overexposed, pulled out of the darkness too soon and struck blind by the rays of the midday sun. might have been so tragic, lost. could have been so elevated, mysterious, revered comme the unknown. or have been stomped out like the dark heart of the fire left smoking some dawn deep south in the chill of american winter.

well. so be it. For the end was worth the means...a couple of smiling young American ladies of Pole and Germanic heritage, talkin trash and slappin knees, ankles, asses...bellies. The surrounding ones fell often into orbit paths, stolen from agendas and drives, like a flush from Ace up hearts stolen, just missing the hearts five.

'Luxe Blue''  Katya 2010

this was why not a word was written in 14 days thats two weeks.... experiential trip. all intellect stole away. pointed fingers became tails between legs. cat became a kitten, dog no longer barked at the chicken. all was changed. these two, they were the centrality now. they were smitten (need not be said, smitten too were the orbiting masses) here onstage at the luxe blue. All Vegas spit dustorms of envy into spirals upward to catch the momentous LIVE LIVE LIVE affair. but fell back to desert from the rush of blue light reverberation, and air.

Scion of emotional star bursting. hunger satiate watched thirst in her thirsting. could soul attachment have been peripheral to the masses? glossed over like a phase, like a fling? these questions were not worth researching towards result. the salt and pepper essentials showered in the moment on devotees. cult following for sure. they came from all points to worship pointlessly. i mean in the locus wherever, nebraska where the ground was now sacred. in some farmers mudfield. acrid. cracking. losing wholeness. fragmenting, crying, becoming soulless....or was this too easy an assumption?

Another girl who considered herself a lady in reverse, met a lady straight forward, tense, angry, and terse. soulful they spoke to one another, against all common reason. it took a flash! like only a couple seconds to season. this kind of compassion born of receiving the gentle touch of blue. of 2 special girls. bringing light to one another, then projected to you and you. and you and you. and you.

The temporal went DL, the demons back to hell, all backed up withdrew! from the knowing that they knew. the coming together of two elements -- air and earth -- enough to descend from air and fall cresting to the turf... gone down to where we could base unite. acceleration back up to flight.

Whatever they did was blessed magic. Courageous precise movements which by a less than full spirit would have meteored, tragic. Magic.  what no one knew or could see. she became a touchstone. I became still and glowing. Silent tall, the trees.

Installment III - 'danger in safe ways'

She did for me, what no one knew or could see. what we did for we. she became a touchstone. like a mirror catching my image too. i tried to see my self today...so blurry....the becoming had accelerated been, time got lost again. gotta stare for a while, or not look at all? brush my hair to either side to find the child within. the spirit, the foundation.

Photo by Katya 2010

with you became simple like locks and keys replacing handwheelrevolutions.
the ressurection of love moved like science -
exact
direct
well lit. even
immaculate

still it was subtle and quick. like some sleight of hand magic trick. but it wasnt. all i know is the synchronicity, the energy, enlightened us in our dark loneliness of days past, years of silent waning waxing...
masquerading
cascading.

Taxing to the spirit! this kind of rush.
fallen away to
burlesque
soul
exposee.

A dancer had inked the heart she wanted on her, the tag. This the heart she  wanted tore in diverse ways, and so it was...
barbed wired
knifed
touched to fire...

cut across in all sort of way
pinned on her arm to fade the days away.

and away we went, ya, each day spent. emotional. touching ever closer. yet still impossible the way it was situated, ya know, never quite fit the rank and culture demands. made us mad. made us fugitive. made our lands what we had no passport to, no more, disappeared overnight, pulled out from under, rip-tye-dyed blood red affiliations. they go for your heart, having none of their own. they wont have this, for we wont have this. i wont have this. you wont have this. distant like fantasy. all of it. yet so real like her, like me.
together.
we cried almost out loud.
then sighed so sad you know the weeping willows wept.

Part II ...love jeunesse...danger in safe ways

she had burned through her lungs the fire of death. ten years and one previous, i had been to that lake. lake of fire of the devil. i knew after one year i was on the take. taken. all my lifeblood discolored. all i held dear to my heart? forsaken. for some little snow white who captivated me. then when she transformed, it was all about the fight. the right to survive. the fight to stay alive. the desire to die, without her i knew...and in these new eyes across this halfway house hall, from the carpets on the floor, over the couches tumbled, then jumped off the wall to flip backward in time together, because you sometimes dont know you gotta relive your life, to stay alive & live on.

do the math. my five eleven to her five seven, but add a half inch to hers and 2 inch heels, drop us negligible metric measure, diametrically facing one another and already sure this would be 4ever...no never sure but hints came ever dilute through the radiant channel. focused at our best, we moved to planes unknown to both of us. impressive like thousand foot walls of granite, dripping water so lovingly to the soil below, damn it! so wonderful you cannot imagine. beauty above most below cannot fathom.

the telling of it as it happened to us, we tried. no wild imagination configured how fucking sweet this could be. no sucking lie could promise as much. promise is like putting up with vulnerability, what you have left of rusted cesspool trust. like that salty place where the living ocean never met the dead sea. the scrolls had to be written, but then lost, you see. the water flooded them, they soaked the paper. the trees need no ink. no verse to measure. our eyes withstood the weather... our hearts brewed tornados. in oil she taught me to dip the bread. this was juicy like tomatoes.

the rings we exchanged in not a week and some change. now wasnt it strange? strange was the way, danger we fronted directly in plain overcoming and in safe ways discovered, sometimes just outdoors, other times required cunning. lemon peeled and orange aura feelings. had me kneeling. had her kneeling. amidst wheeling, amidst dealing. using. stealing. A bitter cruel place like dickens london was for boys. attrition of black lung and chimney sweeping kind of noise.

what do i remember, what will memory offer me? you know sometimes it just gets sucked up the vortex like the life right up the tree, the water i mean, so long as its recycled and like laundry its circling, its rolling, its falling into itself. sometimes grasping. sometimes holding. sometimes spilling out all over the place. door wide open and on the cold cement floor unfolded. getting cold there. giving up its warmth. collective no longer. individually seen there. up under. you scoop it in your arms. you know this shirt, this matching bottom. the one missing buttons on the collar. pulled off by him. or by her. or by yourself in the fearful moments. the anxious ones that used to be so far between. infrequent panic attack scene. she knew of this like i did. together she gave me deeper understanding. like panic was not about the moment whatsoever. no. panic was like the end of your forever. mine i mean. like my experience was concluded. violent like the guillotine, the fall of the blade. who could have invented such a horrifying cascade of sharpened pure evil? probably a religion bent on survival. having forgotten the similarities, and focused on the differences. or focused on the blindness of one of five conscious senses?

not here. not now. not this anymore. subtle sense relation and sensation came over the scene. between her, between me, putting energy on bones so so lonely and lean. lean on me and lean on you. what we both needed. what for both of us was true. following every day a new and fascinating clue. 

she would learn im a Huguenot. French by nature, thank you. we fell under the blade, some of us. we exodus made, some of us. to other lands. out of the heated sun of religion. into shade. to anything less cruel than bad mad bludgeoning. and She knew a similar kind of exodus, the one she was making, or trying so with all her heart. to her i saw, the desert sands would be like paradise. singing sand through your teeth, as each mirage fades away. still you are free of the murderous bastards. the ones whose spirits burned up long ago. they live and survive on chasing an echo of an epoch long ago.

so she and i knew suffering alike. and yet she smiled so nicely, and had gripped the open mic. she had loved so truly, a tragic love that haunted her. her redemption in the telling of the love that swamped her. i had mine too, ten years gone but still true to tell, and post traumatically fallen, across our heads and vertically down our tears now fell. i watched hers melt into my cottons. there was something here i must go home with, not like all the rest i chose and forgotten.

what was this? what was it NOT? this our very placement, our lot. lucky 7 lottery drawn. cared for and home grown, kept in the pocket hidden, sewn.  she i took knees to. to listen to her unfolding story. the pain, the courage, the personal morning glories. horizontal at dusk. mysterious spoken lust. a jeunesse of forming trust. why did i stop everything and drop down for her? because! i must!

await part III

Part 1 : why us two? 2K...'danger in safe ways '

de jeunesse our love so strong...

forte true like muscle (sinew).  and so, within days, this love she grew and grew. could not be contained this was.... why? you ask, oh how? BECAUSE! love i could say with artisan flair. love is fast and transparent  (comme air).... we inhale her. she fills us. exhale...then the cycle, she pulls us. you dont exhale and just stop breathing? you dont feel love without her becoming your living vitality? your cause!

she saw me first, yes, and when i saw her back...fell away all jurisdiction, laws... all rules & protocols. thats how it was. thats how it must be sometimes, against the mass understandings. complicated to find yourself up on a wave, surfing.but the edge im not afraid of, nor was she...we both knew too soon the edges were what we were made of.

the immediate memory was hearing through grapevines.  the word on the street some blonde tall divine. the young Russian even said so, the girl who lost her mind. 'shes real sweet. shes real, you will find.' the Russian, well, you know, she was not often so kind. since her thrill left her dark on the streets. nowhere to rest, no desire to eat. maybe possessed. tough hands. tough feet. still somehow old soul, though small and petite. not the kind so remarkably street.

so when i felt her across from me the room. shaken from where i was moored,  i lifted my head. i was preaching my sense at the time, talking and moving my feet. i had just made a spirited streetscience-esque beat. i was raised not on books, no, but saltpepper corn and wheat. or so i liked to be believed. truth somewhere in there, sometimes retrieved. i lifted and looked, and returned was the look in her eyes. some wornout of wornout, sighing of sighs. i felt this in my thighs. sat back down quickly. crossed my legs. the ladybug i had brought as mascot of the place, nowhere near me. she caught me i her, we caught us by surprise. not like some web. but rather some appreciative compromise. a promise with just a subtle look in the eyes. enough to know what lives, what dies.

part II is next...

'mo(o)ns(u)oon' - letters, I series, July

Khali to K:  July 5th... 
When i pray i know cold its been like this long before the crack and
degradation ... and yeah my bed ... i prayed for
not this easy way out of saying im blessed to wake up purified... but
i prefer the hard road-- it has the best view.      
i dont want to drop it right now. so bear with me, it takes a
while. Hopefully i wont lose it this time. In a minute...

No response...

Khali to K July 6th...

With Permissions from K Garman, photographer

...so mourning came easy but missing the words she spoke and wrote was

the hard part. People have called me morose and dark but death does
not disturb me. Loneliness does. But being surrounded by people is not
the fix. I need the words and the speaking and the naming of
unnameables that only she and then me could do.now finding kindred and
now finding words... in and of you... does touch me more than i might
dare to say if i wasnt so embarrassingly bold. But i cant not say so
when lifetimes pass without even one soul that understands another let
alone more so call me needy -- but dont really. Not ever because i am
never needy but fiercely loyal, once i promise to be so. And the only
promise i know i know i can make is just like i hold sacred the
fluttering of wings i hear against my window every time i awaken out
of troubled dreams i do today and always will hold sacred what you
have and will i hope offer me whether words or laughter and even
silences. Maybe things can always  become small to those who choose to...


Things made small by those who choose the easy way but life is made of
these moments. Inspired and grateful to receive what maybe you find
small i just wish thanks meant anything.
Maybe you drifting onto my
path or mine onto yours as happy coincidence? Whatever the case i do
need you to know that whatever this is im not naming it or wanting to
know more than time blesses only hoping time does bless and not
deceive me by some tragedy i am always afraid will follow me.
Well
what i mean to say is EVERYTHING is fluid  for me. I cant fit these
right angles and carry expectations from the back of cereal boxes.....

 no immediate response...

Khali to K, July 8th...
...what you choose to share, to bless? me with is more than i would
ask for but what i will receive because from this moment on i invite
you inside the circle....
its sacred and i know you know what i mean.
Friendship is the most gracious gift i hope for from you tonight. And
dont forget thats well ive said alot and i did say i hope i never
overwhelm you with who and how i am so with that... I let you chill
and dispel any bad stuff from today. I hope you get this
...me...
Much
love.

K to Khali, July 8th...
(in response to all)

i swam then flew then slowed to the beat of the first beating heart, longer
than the 12 count between lightning flash and thunder struck me, your words!
struck me did they just now...you have the style sort of wrapped around
nothing but pure beauty -- Qt -- and shadows, dont forget them shadows.
i am carin' about U but not no more than i care 2.

which means a lot.
Boo!
wow, you awoke me further into the scene of the sacred circle of our trust
between pinkies,
between fences,
between ghetto tags,
between us. i too have
faith in suffering but not with you. no, not with you. its got to be goldenplatinum
and then sum. its got to be numerologically significant like you know we are crossing
our paths just between a lunar and solar eclispse?!?! this is meaningful in no small
way because i do know you. want to know u to your roots, too.

sexual is insignificant. touch is ember. aura? amber. intimacy? i feel it. i feel you in your
smile in your bartering ways in your dishonesty that honesty conveys. it does no harm
to me, for some reason, only you yourself., and YES believe me when i tell you..

suffering is what we all need and what i have had and what i will have...
but not with you. no, not with you. i want to be there in that nameless cool light
with you, that sacred warm home made of our two styles of written word, our
singing out dope trax like song birds. conjured. unitive. pondered. non-punitive.

filling the emptiness in a way no rules of the road can bear witness. this is why they
call us back. you cant do this! girls, you cant do that! we gonna talk about you behind
your back.!! see? and we dont care, just shrug our shoulders and laugh or sigh. tonight
like every night is a good night to die.

bleed out to the shores of the saltgreen sea.
blood sister
bleed out to you. bleed out to me.

With permissions from K Garman

Khali to K, July 8th...
What magic do you manifest with light like long forgetten circles of
trees where i go to fly and find freedom from weight of explanations
and defenses?
What strength allows you tender heart i just glimpsed
shocked rushed even bleeding in not out?

I cant believe you speak my
language. Yeah fuck sex! i want roots
and tangled branches beauty of
blood red roses guarded by thorns that we somehow as is by magic as if mythology transcend the
hurt
shame
suffering because its growing old
these games ghetto hustlers play.
Yeah you said it right - not with you
i want nothing but safety in packs when danger persuades us to darker
places there could be a place to find refuge here between this our
saying what cant roll so easily off tongues. The first and then the
second time you held
i had to blush
you held
my hand?
thinking you would think i was just a fool. Yeah
your way too sweet for me but
i can
I promised
I do
i will
hold THIS

-- end of letters

im blessed ...

fuck im blessed! life hella sweet out west. cross any bridge and find yourself. lose yourself in fog and daily grind yourself. the day drips out easy and pure to where you see it right, feel its right. think good thoughts and amplify hope. stamp out the violent end of words, days of lost souls strung out on dope. always for all not easy for all to cope. in honor of heartfelt heartbreak. of another young couple desperate strugglin', ya, for their sake. to tear away from smells, colors, taste of home. its not easy, when you find yourself on the take.

i wake up and open eyes... slowly...wonder were they ever closed at all? see by the coloring of the windowpanes, oh to know again the pure snow of winter! diverse colors of the fall! penitentiary issue clothes now broken in by the lawful, bleached and laundered so many times, looks awful.

worn to remember. now its december. all charges dropped, taxpayer money squandered. this is america two thousand ten. dollar losing strength against yen. golden goose traded in for mudhen. what will we do now? practice mindful zen.
no,no,no. no negativity here. i swear! i love america i wish i could kiss her! shes got all the stray cats we need. shes got nonamericans sweating into citizenship earned. shes peeling like an onion of what she once thought learned. the usa. clearly hiphop and bright silver on a tray. wheels and clubs so hot! to touch. to feel. shes all the fucking artists and screwup writers like me. write what the fuck you want! bottom line: you're free! or so she got you thinking.

america for what shes worth deserves some accolades! shes still got kids, still got stands of lemonade. shes still parading around town in daisy dukes. symbols more entrenched &amplified by urban. and sometimes more appealing. her debt around the world? no damn ceiling! she likes lofts. shes hard in places, but you can find her sometimes so soft. like the rivers begin to run dry. the factories coughed. makes you wanna cry. like the residue of sun, twice a day, base of sky...

the beats of yesterday got us trippin on reds, manifest in us. in underground we trust. and the wander...and the lust.  america usa? will you stay together? i pray. lets mend her, be mindful of her, turtle island of the natives, turtle waxed and so creative. steel wheels spinning and scratching the dopest trax. to make up for trains gone cold. railway memories covered by new plant life. who would restore the railway fever?  we could make it manifest,  how we carried the fire burning inside...mark her beauty. dont forget her, the land we reside.

the land is native, and to native shall she go. beneath the wave, the surge of honest hard working classes from all of mexico. beneath the ebb, beneath the flow, a peaceful ground they say? such is so.

such is so! such is so. such is america, miss usa. so loved. sometimes hated. our miss beautiful. thus related.

bleed out to you. bleed out to me.

i swam then flew then slowed to the beat of the first beating heart, longer
than the 12 count between lightning flash and thunder struck me, your words,
struck me did they just now...you have the style sort of wrapped around
nothing but pure beauty -- Qt -- and shadows, dont forget them shadows.
i am carin' about U but not no more than i care 2.

which means a lot...

BOO!
wow, you awoke me further into the scene of the sacred circle of our trust
between pinkies, between fences, between ghetto tags, between us. i too have
faith in suffering but not with you. no, not with you. its got to be goldenplatinum
and then sum. its got to be numerologically significant like you know we are crossing
our paths just between a lunar and solar eclispse?!?! this is meaningful in no small
way because i do know you. want to know u to your roots, too.

sexual is insignificant. touch is ember. aura? amber. intimacy? i feel it. i feel you in your
smile in your bartering ways in your dishonesty that honesty conveys. it does no harm
to me, for some reason, only you yourself., and YES believe me when i tell you..

suffering is what we all need and what i have had and what i will have...
but not with you. no, not with you. i want to be there in that nameless cool light
with you, that sacred warm home made of our two styles of written word, our
singing out dope trax like song birds. conjured. unitive. pondered. non-punitive.

filling the emptiness in a way no rules of the road can bear witness. this is why they
call us back. you cant do this! girls, you cant do that! we gonna talk about you behind
your back.!! see? and we dont care, just shrug our shoulders and laugh or sigh. tonight
like every night is a good night to die.

bleed out to the shores of the saltgreen sea.
blood sister
bleed out to you. bleed out to me.