Frontal Lobe
It’s like this dull soft pain. Really, it’s not a pain at all, it’s more like the sensation on your tongue after an extremely hot beverage leaves its trace across it. It doesn’t hurt, not after the initial burn anyway, but you know
Moments
There are spaces between moments, ephemeral and unnoticed, the catalyst of every thought, every dream. Between sleep and waking I find you, the thought of you and my breath stills as the day awakens.
Leaves Turning
So many leaves have turned over, abandoning the cradle where they were first awakened by the soft caress of the morning breeze against the remaining dew- Earth’s nightly renewal, where they were taught the steps of the wind’s whispers and danced against light’s refraction; gently they’ve loosened their dependency, letting go their hold on verdant hues and have solemnly accepted the less vibrant tones of winter, inviting gravity to lead them. So many breaths exhausted to Earth’s persistent rotating, to the sun drenched rising of one more finite presence.
The Light We See
-The way a heart begins to pulse, with implosion, in the same way a star collapses into its emptiness, before becoming brilliant, the light that travels, the light we see…
Tokyo Oblivion
-Grids of luminescent blue hues spilling, dimly lighting buildings, as facades sweep by; a sea of subdued haze. In between, the brief dark, before and after, quick reflections… the face of melancholy and oblivion. The muted lights of Rainbow Bridge, the opaque dance of water, small boats beaded red… outlines of ancient vessels. Through the train’s windows, the station shivers, light fades, the Yamanote line jingle continues in the dark. The lights return in fractured stream. The jingle fades, the echo resonates, as a human shadow shivers. A crimson stream drips its way down the steps.
Myth
-I hold back tears, as I hold back time, clinging to moments as if they were real Unverifiable myths of my existence, of hope Whether lost or stolen, or simply undone What remains now are ruins Dreams once shone vibrantly now fade How sad it was to live afraid of losing what was being lost
A Handful of Sand
-The moment stands still. Or, I want it to. I take a picture, figuratively, of course, but when I open my eyes, the moment is gone. I cannot clearly distinguish the one from the next they blend into the other; the way the wind bends the dancing branches in each moment, the birds shifting their positions against the sky, shadows scattering and being drawn back together. I sketch it, a moment; the shade as it stands to one side, before it diminishes; the leaves on branches, as they stand against the sun; the birds, as they spread their wings against […]
Contemplating a Reflection in the Lacanian Mirror
-Her face, her laughter, the scent she leaves behind as she passes Reminds, it reminds me of a reflection, a mirror, in which I was whole It is faint, having faded, a kind of linear erosion along the trajectory of many meandering steps The inflections in her voice, like a sudden gust calls to the lost embers which like stars in the crepuscular hours reawaken the traces of life in our eyes In that twilight that space between soft faded reflections and dreams Her voice is that memory she is that memory even as it fades she remains a reflection, […]
My daughter watching Chaplin
-The night’s whispers commence, their hushed tones interspersed between the flickering orbs of the sky, the autumnal breath of the earth, and the scattering leaves. She sits there, my daughter, in the way Mithra sat under the Banyan tree; or Gilgamesh, Siddhartha, or even Jesus in a different iteration. She sits there, in that same form of mindful meditation, under a white stucco sky, its small protrusions, refracting the light of flickering images. The story unfolds in her eyes, as it does in her heart; a child acts in defense of the love its known, against the intrusions of the […]
Ether
-We walk away from each other, in the dust cover of night fall, as the stellar sediment of millions of once resplendent bodies of the universe enter the atmosphere, as the myriad possibilities that exist in one gyration of this celestial body, this earth, move to become just out of reach, into the ether of a diminished day.