-The cold quiet hours of emptiness, when you left and I was alone; the house cracked and settled itself, preparing to live a life without you As I sat on the living room floor I could hear the cracking in the darkness and understood, but could not let go. My arms reached out in the dark in front of me; the only thing I found were my knees and I pulled them close. You had just closed the door, but I’d been alone for so long.
-Dreams come to us, lit by remnant streaks, left by falling spheres of light, when the sun’s jagged reflection no longer dances on unsettled waves, the unawakened moon leaving incandescence mitigated, there is an iridescent glow, at the edge of our horizon this is perhaps a promise which assures the moon will rise this is when you close your eyes, and hope dreams materialize by moonlight
-There are moments, sometimes days, when the moon goes dark. In between these, within the markers of time, you cannot discern the waxing and waning, the shifting of tides. Sand keeps sifting. You become lost in a permanent midnight, consumed by falling stars, leaving streaks of light across the sky. Your eyes scan, leaping from one to the next, leaving traces of dissolving smiles on your lips. They taste salted, broken like the feeling at your fingertips as they trace the jagged journey of your trajectory, in the absence of the moon. You do not move, you fall, as the […]
-The disc is in and he walks over to the humming box, scans quickly through the play-list, choosing the song, the same on the album. He presses play and then he clicks. The sound fills the room, and then it clashes against itself. The vocals yell out and there’s an echo. Cymbals clash against the very same cymbals, in a different form. The rhythmic beating of percussion in the background is upset. The guitar verve crashes against itself, coming too early and too late. Everything is off, having lost its center, destabilized sense with no beat. He sings along, knowing […]
-I could have been brilliant, perhaps, if I had been born during the solstice of a different moon, if my mother had not been plagued by the thought of aborting me- unable to face another miscarriage, if my father had been sober- when they decided to try again, if all ties with the ethereal had been severed- when I was placed in human flesh, if I didn’t yearn for what I was- when I was born, if the catastrophes of life were swept away-undone. I could have been brilliant, if I was meant to be just that, if the jagged […]
-Clear the damages from your mind step over the debris that has fallen in time make your way to that greater calling that place you dreamt of in a now forgotten dream the one in which the fishes floated upside down and upstream a dark passage you made it through boils, pains, bruises and all you are here, you are here, wake up and see you have made it through much you have walked in the darkness of the night’s drought and continue still do not allow yourself to be filled with the mirages of sanity the pretty pictures painted […]
-Sometimes I wake in the darkness of night, I scoot myself to the edge of the bed, my feet resting on the wooden frame, I have to remind myself, I am home. There’s a loneliness that cries out to me in the silence of the shadows. I want to cry, my body cries, but my eyes refuse, my soul remains dry. There is at times a shaking, that seizes me, my body’s movement, a warning. It is reminiscent of the moments of too much coffee, caffeine and nicotine. I can almost make out a solo sax riff floating through the […]
-And how does one reveal? What is the revelation we are after? Is it found in the moments, when the wind picks up and leaves and paper scatter, inciting the winds of mind, to themselves animate and issue forth the thoughts that found their genesis in moments long past? The questions over chambers of spirit, over the ethereal connections that may, perhaps have been, what was before we were. Is it, in the quiet moments, when words are muted and the coffee aroma becomes its own image between two that become almost translucent? Is it, in the gestures of the […]
-The price of waking is innocence, innocence in this world is precious. But innocence is soon stolen by awareness, the search for knowledge, searching to know. This is where it begins, searching, attempting to understand. Understanding leads to pride, that one does know. Knowing without understanding leads to the suffering and the scratching, scratching at the tiles that remain unearthed, the truth of everything, somewhere in there we find what we can attain: words and thoughts. Thoughts lead us to further confusion, confusion that is not easily dealt with, we seek out means of ending the spinning, try to pause […]
-Sometimes with the windows rolled up, the radio off, I feel I’m going crazy. It’s like dancing on the fifth floor, the lights off, no one watching, four in the morning with the impression of no one special, all those faces who’ve come and gone. The words keep coming, frantic vibrant flowing; I’m talking to myself again. Even as the world speeds by in my rearview, I continue, sometimes yelling at the top of my lungs. There are moments when I think of sobbing, as if that will make my lament more real, perhaps heard, by some greater spirit, or […]