Saturday, July 22, 2006

and we all stood behind glass and witnessed.

the seagulls are sleeping to fend off the heat which weeps from the air.
everything is quiet, hoping the stillness will radiate, form crystals that will
masquerade as ice.
even new lovers can't bear to be near
each other.
their body heat melting their skins before they've come together
in the way that lovers
a hint, a single drop, falls from the sky, like light
yet the terra firma has eloped with lava,
and the dharma bums have taken their leave
in the jungles tonight.
we'll watch, and listen as the whole planet sizzles.

astrological mind games.
there is a plastic apple in the middle of a table five stories below my feet. we sit in the wind and the trees as the leaves funnel skyward in clouds like yellow bullets in slow motion. there aren't enough to saturate the air, but they catch in my eyes even from miles away and hold me still inside the vaccuum of air they are suspended within. a globe of noncircular time haunts the canopy of trees, and as single molecules multiply, they begin to magnify, their preoccupation of space. the lake is whipping itself into a frenzy, rolling in sheets inches above the horizon, and sending notes like fog horns just below the surface, until they reach the shore, when they smash into the rocks and split sound waves into ten million tiny carbon bombs. the zodiac voice is out and ringing, pulling planets from the bricks and the boards. letting them fall into place while they spin carefully across angles made of unborn chaos. memory, of course. the attic born prophet continues to splinter the mysteries, but in the background comes the rumbling of some great beast. metallic, and angry, it is the churning of mindless joints, cast from steel, driven by the hunger of its endless smoky heart. deus ex machina, in reverse...more or less. the flicker of heat lightning draws me out of my tortured meditation, and my eyes drift down five stories to the plastic apple. it has been left half eaten by the invisible man seated in the courtyard.

things to remember:
being a mirror.
temporary molten copper hearts.
"as the world bursts apart on literary fascination, and the weather."
finding a pistol in a drawer full of remote controls
smoking lilies
the muse is awakened.

the storm came on like a cyclone and the trees came down...
white caps racing their way towards shore.
this beastly thing of lightning struck through water,
the muse is awakened.
the water was rising, and you were in a fury, and
we all stood behind the glass and witnessed.
wine. music.
and we all stood behind glass and witnessed.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

mental record players

these things are singing in my head...
Opening credits: [new slang] the shins
Waking up: [banana pancakes] jack johnson
Average day: [passing afternoon] iron and wine
First date: [second time around] yo-yo ma
Falling in love: [samson] regina spector
Love scene: [can't stop] red hot chili peppers, or [after an afternoon] jason mraz
Comfort love: [kingdom come] coldplay
Fight scene: [shy] ani difranco
Breaking up: [i don't want to know] goo goo dolls, or [options] pedro the lion
Getting back together: [comfortable] john mayer
Secret love: [the humpty dumpty love song] travis
Life’s okay: [for the widows in paradise...] sufjan stevens
Mental breakdown: [i didn't understand] elliott smith
Self Love: [beautiful soul] jesse mccartney
Driving: [night swimming] r.e.m.
Learning a lesson: [don't think twice, it's all right] vonda shepard
Deep thought: [moonlight mile] the rolling stones
Flashback: [holland, 1945] neutral milk hotel
Dance party: [fakin' amnesia] bikeride
Happy dance: [hey man!] nelly furtado
Regreting: [ez] pete yorn
Long night alone:
[land locked blues] bright eyes
Death scene: [if i should fall from grace] the pogues
Closing credits: [see you soon] coldplay

because there, i don't have to think so much. i can just be, and nothing explodes.

Monday, July 03, 2006

honey, now if i'm honest

i know it would be outrageous
to come on all courageous

there are only so many things that i can continue to adore about this place, that i'm living in, i swear. they just keep appearing, and i'm beginning to think i'll be overwhelmed with ridiculous affection, and i won't be able to handle myself. then i'll go crazy. not that i'm sane now...
and it's not just the physical place, either. it's this place that i'm in...sitting in, living in, loving in. because i love lists, and i'm bursting with little bits, i think i'll do it that way.

a. burning incensence and candles. i've gone for two years without doing so, and i just recently remembered that i can burn whatever the fuck i want in my room. sandalwood smoke drifts out my window on a daily basis now

b. the lake, and all things included. in the morning, and at night, it sounds very similar to the ocean. i know it isn't, because the scent is missing...but the sound is so close, i wake up smiling. i haven't done that in years. sunning myself on the dock. the trees behind our house that begin to engulf the back porch, and the attic. i feel that i am living in a canopy...a canopy way up in the trees, and that i have no reason to climb down. i can channel my inner julia butterfly hill. live like a queen in the trees...

c. having a kitchen (again). making scrambled eggs and potatoes and farina and chocolate milk. playing chef. doing the dishes (!)

d. adventures. this comes with summer, always. but it's so much different here, because the parentals are mia. the independence is intoxicating. this feeling that i have is difficult to explain, to make sense of in words, but i think i've phrased it as such before: i feel like i'm actually participating in my life.

e. getting sunburnt. having cleaning fits. vacuuming to blasting classical music. singing sweet jazz on the porch in the dark.

f. the fragile dance i do when i play with my own emotions.

g. being surrounded by people who introduce me to new things. new music, new movies, new authors. new ideas, new perspectives, new thought processes. its like being washed under a stream of fresh life...a different way of living. at work, in the co-op, all around me, there are these people who have a totally strange, completely chaotic way of functioning, but they're all surviving..thriving even. which gives me faith that i'll be able to carry on the way that i do

h. dysfunctional moments of unconventional amusement. in cars, via milwaukee. on couches, listening to records. standing on the porch, and soaking in the glow of the house.

i. watching the fireworks over the lake, and being completely jaded by the blind patriotism hiding within the non-subliminally enforced love affair with our democractic wasteland of a nation. comparing that feeling to how it was when we were young. what changed us? when did we become what we are now? what has happened to those small children, who looked forward to that sultry night in july that was covered in flashing lights, and picnics, and the glorious star-spangled banner. that flag makes me flinch, approaching doors or watching it wave in the wind. i associate it with something else, now. and i do not identify with it in the slightest.

j. there's a mouse in the frying pan.

k. being provocative. awkward. uneasy. outrageous.

l. "i like the way you sing. i can see you, as a young mother, singing to your children." there will be music in my house. always.

there will always be things i miss about the places i've been before. some of them are smallish [standing in the hallway by the drinking fountain. rolling down hills full of leaves. screaming obscenities into the darkness from swingsets and cars.] some of them are much larger [not so much things, but people. and the way we live together. ] but i think that the farther i go outward, the more that will wash over me that i will adore, and it will just build and build until one day i really will burst. i cannot wait for that day. i cannot wait to overflow.

i've got something with me. my soul's kinda gritty. now do i lie or run away. i'll be on my own. it don't matter i'm grown. i won't be singing no sad song. and if i rub you wrong. baby i come on strong. i got no mind to cushion what i say.