there is nothing to compare to what the feeling would be to hold you- in my arms- right now, my love. and to hold you close then- forever and never question anything ever again. (oh for just the chance I would trade my soul)
notes… and yes, I would trade it all sometimes to reverse the past, to reverse the shame, the mistakes, damn I hate my memory, I see people, most people just can move on and forget, but I am wired the way I am because of the dna I was given, the brain I was given, I can not lament – or I can but what difference does it make, the struggle, damn, I don’t know what to do even if everyone looks at me like that dude who knows it all.. I know so little, feel so much, I think I know more than the average joe, but who knows? we all wind up the same, the fuel for a star or the remains… damn sometimes I hate awareness, I might rather be a cactus just hoping for rain… but that would rob me of my faculties… damn, I just don’t know.
the stretching- beautiful blue sky out- as I drive, the span over the meadowlands, tree tops, now budding, in this spring my mind wanders- dreams- drifts- as it should and then inward; there is that moment of inner inspection reflection; looking for that place where my mind will rest and my heart might forget, (her) all these years- and still- no one compares to you, my love for each replaced thread, so abandoned I am reminded- and so long, even the fear has long since departed the familiar denial has settled in the submission to the cold acceptance with only your memory to keep me warm until I go. (there)
(and I pray someday to see you again- for sometimes the hope, the dream is all I have)
sometimes I am mysterious, or arcane, or sometimes I am a merchant of simplicity… depends on the world and how my mind drifts, this was today… (I wrote this piece listening to this song, why? who knows… it was what made me think, made me muse, so I am tried to bring you to the same place, where I put the song on repeat and my mind on repeat until a mantra bubbled up to understand, so it did, profound? loud? soft? correct? righteous? nah… just me.. and maybe you, these days it is what it is, and sometimes I am OK with that even if I wish for the bliss, I realize I had a time in the sun, would I like another? yes…)
;there are times when I look outward, reveal inward, and I lose my way, my hope, as my dreams both nourish me and deceive me, and my words – they come – so I write;
counting down the days of the sun counting down the days, to our reunion counting down until there are none because in my heart I know – this, will never happen
how I miss you, the taste of your lips – my, my only love, for you are, this(thought)
sometimes I wake trembled in the corner I made myself where none had yet to exist
I have painted my own portrait determined, my own fate my inner demons the mask, now is my face
years, and I am still here staring, looking out at the world sometimes I dance along most times I walk alone and so-
I can not escape, this box not by will or by smarts just the end, determined by none if only I could really know, someone- inside through and inside out like I do, this house
gathering storm clouds come the wood floor planks speak with age my hands shake, with anticipation or perhaps, just age again so here I am locked in this made hollowed cage, sometimes, sometimes my mind escapes a hand turns the knob of the door up into the sky, from the earth into the stars, then I go eternal, as light from fusion flows forth; may I burn, like our sun and provide that warm feeling, once more on a child’s cheek or provide the power to raise the truly weak- or fall, to split a glimmer, of a tear and may I find glory in the unfold transform into all the colors as rhymes are told- for a moment
but so returns the astral dreamer back locked into, into my cold dark corner; hope is stoked by both sides in this dreams may be the epitome- of murder
notes… I wrote this from the cuff, all tonight, raw, maybe could be more polished… I went over it maybe three times… but it makes sense to me, if it does for you, please comment, I am curious if my thoughts make sense to anyone, I post to make my art public, and my inner life public, because we are all alive right now, we owe it to each other as artists… maybe that sounds like bullshit or lofty, sure, but we are alive right now, together, for we truly are… and one day, one day too soon, we will all go away, my friends, we will all go away… why do we not live every minute of every day as such… we are caught up in the game… because, we are human… and I wonder how to express that and share that… with you…
‘a wash of nature’ humans, above the animals we place ourselves, perhaps, but instinct, still an unseen force coursing through our being, and maybe, maybe that is what drew me outside, my own subconscious need to survive, or at least better my now sometimes the days feel crushing, as if bricks are piling on and you have no choice but to take the tension, the tensionof pushing back to not snap in half like a twig, and every minute seems to make the ground softer, the weight larger, until you are just a witch ditched under the corner of a house in a tale on some small CRT so I venture outside, the banal but rewarding task of watering my bamboo plants, they don’t talk back, or at least not yet, they do not have names but certainly have faces I have come to recognize, and then I notice to the west, the breeze hits, the type of breeze that just might be carrying a parcel as a portent to some distant traveling storm, but the clouds they stay quaint, without a word the breeze speaks to me, washing over me, not like water, like only wind can, touching but not, invading but cordial, intimate but not intrusive, I stop – arms out just to bathe in this, a wash of nature, so I sit down on my concrete steps, trying to capture the breath in, watching the water drip from pots just wetted, the drops out-slowing with every moment of age, as all things, trying to bask in the last embers thrown of day, fading, not dying for I know the world is spin, just resting, just sleeping while I sleep and I think of you, of all the lips have mine have touched none have been as yours, nerve endings are only the beginning, the vessel, a means, I remember peering and curling up in your eyes, so I could immerse myself in every inch of you, to be one, and now I am just one, I dream of you here, even now, all these years later, I still wish you to be here, quiet in this moment, together, what else is better? I’ve not known, I’ve not found a mere sustainable sliver since, a key, a door, no – just rambling wilderness guided by the faded scribblings of a once fierce cartographer, no more, a meandering nomad yearning for mirages to appear, something so intense even if pure hallucination might mend, at least for a moment, I wish you were here right now so I could tell you everything and nothing, just to feel your gentleness once more, just once more, I slide into what was, what could have been, but no, these silent moments in a comforting summer breeze relent, the soft tin-din of seasonal locusts in chorus, crickets chiming in as the light dims, in my mind I reach for your hand – to know it is gone, so I sit within the phrase-waves of this somber summer song, stripped away of all the world around, my focus has but only sound, I whisper in the most warming tone, as if lost in your sight-line, if only once more… “I will always love you”
notes… stream of my consciousness, all rivers bleed into the sea, or at least they do… for me, sometimes.
are we fibers or just strings or links in a chain I wonder as I hold you closer I imagine we begin to combine at the molecular level can we now pass through each other? or simply merge for a moment two spun as one no wonder the separation feels as this does
notes… lost love letters staccato style (as I call it), I am very aware of rhythm in my words and flow… maybe it is all in my head, sure, but those who get it are wired into my frequency, I do not expect that to be everyone, just you, so thanks for the time, any and all comments are appreciated
‘statements of stalemates’ the erasure of love the slow descent the disappearance the failing specter the fabric of life begins to falter the path has come to no end in the dark.
Shades of My Garden 