An alternate explanation

-Paper mache and the sky is falling. Large wet globs of the once hardened substance. It’s what’s killing the polar bears. Contrary to the theory of the melting ice caps and their drowning, it’s these vertiginous globs, falling from the heights of the ozone, crashing on their heads. Nothing can swim while unconscious, least not polar bears. This is also what’s responsible for the incremental rise of ocean tides, as well as the slowing of the Gulf Stream and the desalting of the sea. It’s a matter of the underlying design of everything, the core of the rock on which […]

June 2, 2008

standing still amidst revolution

-I’m sick of metaphors, my own. The whole allegorical world in my head seems filled with technique and contrivance, an attempt at bridging the chasm between myself and others. In this effort I feel like Froggy waving frantically for Saturn’s attention, stripping down stark nude that he might be noticed by his creator, that he maybe validated-in some sense-for his humanity or simply as creation. Yet, even as I lay there, my skin turning a tomato red under the sun’s glare, the technique, the contrived language, crumbles under the glare of nothing more than that burning star which lights the […]

May 27, 2008

Love – III. Healing arms

-A momentary peace, not your own, as if the world depended on that warmth, on the warmth which turns cold in an instant, when your own is no longer enough. And broken I remain there, my arms around her, her beating heart. My senses fed by her essence, her scent. And I am lost. Lost in her, lost with her, though she does not care about me or the state I find myself in, as long as she feels her being lost is not loss because there is someone there. I try to break free, but my arms do not […]

January 18, 2008

Fracture

-It fractured, so fragile. Who’d have thought? Sharp, the pieces, creating wounds And in time, will it matter, faded like everything? Only the resonance continues beating in the heart.

December 24, 2007

Long December

-So where are you the tides are slowly shifting the grains of sand, filling the crevices between the cracks every break you can’t turn back and where am I scattered pieces and I’m searching ruptured dreams so that I’m scratching at a door that will not open and time is wearing thin my soul, it’s growing weary my eyelids fall don’t want to let the light in can’t face another morning don’t want to wake my body troubling my soul

December 20, 2007

Resolution

-There is something unresolved… something there, which remains, like the shard from the white porcelain shell on the beach, the one which refracts the light as the sun is on its slope, that sharp refracted ray that blinds you as you walk along the crashing waves… it’s like that, the remnant which creates the genesis of a lack of resolution

November 18, 2007

Sediment

-There is a thought, or was a thought, and if nothing else there continues to be a thought which contains nothing more than a recollection of the initial thought. That idea that there was something magical in moments perhaps now lost completely, even in the sediment of memory. Moments, which like all other moments can never be recaptured or recreated and would feel false if reenacted. Yet there is or was something magical in those moments…where is the magic… even as the moments have crumbled and the depictions on caves’ walls have faded with time, the magic does not, but […]

November 14, 2007

Yellow Post-It Litany

-Where do I fall when I fall? How do I start over and why didn’t I start when I was there? Why is each choice, each avenue a different life? Why so many worlds on one earth? As years become days, how does time stretch so far and become so heavy? Why does dust always gather on eyelids? And when I blink, why am I not awakened? Does suffocating ever heal a body? Does laughter burn more than tears? If I’m aware of every moment do I ever rest? Will I ever live if I’m half asleep?

October 26, 2007

Adding Weight

-I want to believe in breath as it enters and escapes the body, believe it does more than simply expand the chest and become molded into sound. I want to believe in syllables, in their endless combinations, in the wonders and the mysteries that can be built from them. I want to believe in words, believe they are real, believe they carry weight and add to the ounces of the soul.

October 4, 2007

Bleed

-I just want to write today, to leave the little markers of time that may, if viewed in a certain light at a certain angle, mean something. Leaving the scratchings of my thoughts and the meandering of my mind poured upon the white abyss in its lightness, an attempt to add weight. To scrawl little black etchings, like the clawing at breath, attempting to fill lungs with a smile and never exhale. Sit in a posture that is not of benefit to my frame or back, but which allows me to disappear as it remains, leaning in over the screen […]

September 18, 2007