Words Memorial

We all make our choices. 

The hard part is living with them.

A Vanishing Life

Green like an Oli(ve)

Hard Transplant

"It's supposed to be heart. If it wasn't heart, everyone would do it.The heart is what makes it great."

It was a musical thing...

A Vanishing Life

The point of this exercise is to make memory your friend and not your enemy.  From one sensitive skin to another.

A Vanishing Life

Gratitude and fear can not coexist.  Thank you, Skipper, for this gem.

What I learned in September

Watercolor has value like the iron pot. The latter is solid. Round. Always waiting and doing what you know to be true. Making things so you don't have to. Full to the brim. The patience of stillness. There is risk in the other. Worldly. She flows and engulfs until you're drunk at the ledge, like wind on the first sign of summer's end. Hues dissolving to tears, seep into the bloodstream, stains on the ribcage, never leaving the in side of you as she disappears.

Just as a flower

spotless

Only Shallow

I read somewhere that love is the moment when we are released from God's image.  We can be our true selves without guilt or service.  Free.  In the same instance I read that we are born hermaphrodites, in a duality, and once it's decided what sex will be formed, love becomes an everlasting quest in finding the missing half.  Enslaved.

This will be my last prose for a while, I think.  Unsure because I'm a lazy addict.  A creature of too many habits with my sense of abandonment strong when something like swaying is out of sync.  I went under the skin this year and discovered what is beautiful, terrifying, human.  It had been a while... to find under the skin is where we want to be.

Let's pretend...

that it's the real thing
And stay together all night long.

Good friends...

walk with you in a park under the stars far away.  Force you to pose when you want to disappear. Make you create things that you'll probably never use just for the sake of being creative.  It's in your blood after all.  They remind you that to take risks by not pretending no matter what the consequence is to be alive.  Order cocktails and contemplate with tears in their eyes because they know how you feel and want you to know it, too. Call when you need to be pulled out of the water.  Even when you didn't know you were drowning.  Then again to be sure you're still OK. Maybe later, too, after deciding to give you space.  They send horoscopes even if you don't believe or a list that will make you re-evaluate your entire existence!  They make you laugh about your mutual insecurities until your bellies ache. You are home when you laugh together.  Schedule and reschedule until it's right because time shows us so few speak the same language.  Buy you wine in old New York. We can break rules there as long as it's done in style.  They tell you they love you when they want, didn't mean to, or shouldn't.  They are always hoping you're available because they need things from someone good like you.

Let it Seep

Again

Here I see again.  The wall of fire making everything look darker than dark matter.  We jump in.  Human beings part of human-racing across the universe finding all that is beating is burning.  Meaning who can resist free falling forever?  Just like the time you told me I mattered.  But illusions are funny that way.  They stretch truth and show us movement when we're frozen in timelessness so our salty eyes can't see a bloody thing.  The deep blue sea nothing but a womb.  It could never save us anyway because deep down we fear there are holes their, too. Sometimes I think that kind of force can be reckoned with. Then my heart turns black as the day before our eyes met.

Independence Day

Independence on a Monday are antithetical states. But I've lived 
here since the day I was told beauty was tactile. And sank 
into a salt water pool with my eyes wide open. Made a polygamist doll adore the one plastic heart. Watched the fireworks as I inched my way toward a canopy. Slept in the same clothes I'd work in come Tuesday morning. All of this as easy as a lazy yesterday 

when I couldn't for the life of me decide 

what do I do.  

The Perfect Someone

Dayvan Cowboy

Cowboys are the fire that burns.  Riding along sacred land, dancing dust, twilight, then west... alone and wild. Desecrating laws that bind US.  The ones we should follow because darker men know how to fly.  Tobacco can be spiritual, too, if the inhale reveals just how open your space is.  It's not forever, though, like your hat.  Even if it was, forever is no match for the desert.

Cowboys, they are my weakness for so very long.  Always on the precipice.  Heart on your gun. I race between tumbleweeds, whipped and spurred, discovering uncharted admiration isn't mired in adoration, but grows inside like a prize I couldn't map out... in the alone and wild.

Who really says they want to be a cowboy anyway?

Seen & Heard

"...friendship is above all the art of allowing the soft light of love to fall upon even our darkest sides" - a brainpicker.

"your friendship means so much..." - soft light.

*footnote: June 8 was National Best Friend's Day. Something brought to light at 10:49am today.

Continuum

For once in the space-time continuum I didn't count miles.  I didn't spot the cracks before me. I wasn't chased by a shadow.  The watchers traced my footsteps as if I didn't have eyes.  My guide never did find my satellite.  I merely glided into silk wrapped in complete and utter light.  No work, no sound, no space, no time.  It lasted an eternity until I didn't deserve it.