sometimes i wonder
if you remember to exist
instead of weaving in-between
the heavy peopled streets;
these darkest wells, acid rain
on wooden shelves. how sound smells
is how fast light burns
is how ash is made from worlds.
a cave of curiosities plays out from the deep
dumplings and dragons peer from this hand made quilt of self analysis
while you and i gather duality without grasping
we amass lightly like hunters quietly building cities to dismantle
fabricating sentences to waft into impermanence
what a desirable situation
your hands like small pianos dancing with eyes across the grid
counter intuitive chanting
unwrapping a scantily clad
parody of yourself, you smell like
fish and chips, you smell like
you have an intimate relationship with
the sea, tell me, does she miss me?
she’s the only body of water i’ve ever loved
but she wont let me get wet anymore
or share her salted taffy secrets.
home, away from home:
behind closed doors
muffled human voices;
become bigger than themselves.
it’s just a movement of the eye
when you look back
it’s just everything happening
all at once.
spoke into the void of the dining room
inside of you:
an alright start
when the motor clutched
and we fishtailed on
our way to the dump,
an alright start
of a classical song
watch the dashboard
light up, filming us
on some winter’s dawn
the difference between
a good beginning and
an alright start is
how the end turns out.
these days i live in the middle of nowhere. i walk across a vast frozen lake to get into the nearby town and when the ice melts i will sink or swim. everyday it seems insane that i even exist. i make tea, i draw, i stare at the frozen lake. i scream when i feel angry. i cry when i feel sad. sometimes i sit and wonder why i need to attach myself to feeling anything. recently i participated in an experience that dissolved my being into everything else while i hallucinated a geodesic collision of colours and i felt the fear and anxiety associated with death, of leaving my life and everything i feel the need to identify with. i got up halfway through to take my socks off, as if that act had more meaning than anything else in the world. even though i have everything i could possibly want, some days i miss you more than anything. just to see you smile at me would dissolve me as quickly as any psychotropic substance.
there’s this feeling in me that is a yearning for very specific moments, like certain memories are so spectacular that i wouldnt mind being a part of them again but this sense of nostalgia overtakes when i let it. makes me realize that my stellar present will soon become a pined for past and this is not a way to live. so i keep an image of you in the back of my mind from some perfect time that cannot be redefined.
these days i go to parties where i don’t know anyone. i give art away and in exchange people give me canvases and vonnegut novels. in exchange people take me into their place and feed me, clothe me, let me hang christmas lights and smoke inside. i take the anger and restlessness that i feel around me and i eat it. i dig to the very center of it and allow it to unravel. i dig to the very center of it and i draw it. i don’t know what i am doing when i draw but i know that the artwork that occurs represents something i can never fully understand. the filter of my existence is me, my senses, my body, my mind and i can never be objective with myself. i can understand that something ineffable happens when i am in love, when i am out of love, when i am falling into freshly spit snow. i can try to express the absurdities of one human. i can tell you that i miss you with my mind and miles away you will feel it. i can conjure, grow and destroy a whole world and not even notice.
into the night we went, hand in hand, while the horizon bent, inlaid with sparks/\ jewels. you plucked it from itself and crafted a necklace/\ shrine to wear at all times. despite the onslaught of spring the ice was still thick enough to dance along, past holes where fish were apt to jump when the going gets tough. you had this way of looking at me with your face tipped downwards which made your eyes wider than ever, peering up at me through the something that was between us. i could drive for 20 hours for this something. i could drive for 20 days for this something, to have it for a minute/an hour/a lifetime. any amount is fine as long as it shifts into something new each time.
holding a space so vastly empty yet so comfortingly silent it will creep around you, leave you slightly uneasy. objects will start breathing. you will start reading to yourself to break the space play music way too loud, unable to ground sounds creating anything to inhabit the air. you will find anything to fill void that only another human entity can take the place of. you’ll stop closing the bathroom door, and frequently avoid wearing pants. often you’ll cook topless. suddenly you’ll decide to smoke inside. everything is an ashtray. you’ll play the same riff over and over again, usually all day. there’s no reference for when to stop and usually you’ve had too much coffee anyway. your fingers will ramble endlessly with anything. you will think of when to leave the house, how you’re going to do it, what activities you will engage in but never do. the days will bleed, the afternoon leaves slipping down the stairs and night time is when you try to socialize with trees. the world is a barrage now, a juxtaposition of your isolated control space. your cellular structure. your semi-permeable membrane that contains only you and enough food to last the week.
someones moon always,
all the ways
i could be
sending images via satellite
keeping a dark side hidden.
keeping footprints intact forever.
[desire itself is movement
not in itself desirable;
love itself is unmoving,
only the cause and end of movement,
timeless, and undesiring
except in the aspect of time
caught in the form of limitation
between un-being and being. – t s eliot]
(as i wrote this)
down the street
picked up snow
took a leap
i took a leap
took me about 6 tries
but i managed to touch it
the fall (before winter)
let myself be caught up
by a wind willing to catch
fell hard into polynomial living
(at a distance)
curious if i should let go
melt into it all
get picked up later
by keeping eyes
to the ground
looking to be found
looking for meaning
in between the lines
in between images
looking for something that happened
instead of paying attention to what is
WHENEVER YOU’RE READY: LET(s) GO
days off = daze on
i’ve been watching my mood wavering, tight rope walking if you will, from dense social isolation to overwhelming joy and ability to express myself extremely openly in a social settings.
in the former, i become withdrawn to the extent of feeling hardened. (I DON’T FEEL AND IT FEELS GREAT)
(A RADICAL REAPPRAISAL:
On this day you will probably have difficulty relating to others,
feeling cool and reserved even toward those you love. The problem
is that you will have to spend today reevaluating what you are getting
out of your relationships and what you are putting into them.
You will have a strong awareness of yourself as an independent, even
isolated human being, realizing that no one can really get inside of
you and feel what you feel. Obviously, this can lead to loneliness and
depression, but it can also lead to a radical reappraisal of your life and to
a sober consideration of yourself as a human being relating to other human
beings. It is necessary to separate yourself from the illusions that run
through even the best relationship and to look at what is really there. )
in the latter sense. everything has been moving fluidly working through the emotions without attachment or negative connotation. cutting through bullshit, saying what needs to be said when it needs to be said as openly and accurately as possible, keeping it silly otherwise.
often i notice that we admire people for things they do that we want to do but feel incapable of doing ourself. can lead to idolization of other people. i feel capable of doing whatever i want these days. if i want to interact a certain way, i just do it. i don’t worry about what i can or cannot do in the sphere of my own existence.
(“water may be older than light, diamonds crack in hot goats blood, mountaintops
give off cold fire, forests appear in mid-ocean. it may happen that a crab is
caught with the shadow of a hand on it’s back, that the wind is imprisoned in
a bit of knotted string. and it may be that love sometimes occurs without pain
or misery.”) – shipping news/last paragraph
gathering peoples hair again, adding it to mine. love mane.
life review: feeling tripped outwards
aware of allatonce, each thought trembling
i fall hard: scrape my knees and get up bloody and laughing.
i fall into: le petite mort
“the plasm of the dream is the pain of separation.
the dream lives on after the body is buried.” – henry miller
underneath our horns there is a tendon, holding a finger up in mid refrain
in mid wait-for-it stance where the dance of musculature is always strained.
bones kick up tremulous dust and we stand like we know how to be tall, like
we’ve practiced this dance before. winter hail rings on, black spring dawn
crawls up window pains and claws at the skin around my pelvis. cold settles
inside of the emptiness i’ve cultivated in my garden, plants grown up without
sun or light, just love/lack there of. the night is on the rise. there are
preparations for the storm en masse while we cast our palms and wishes to
the ever shifting wind. from the north is the scent of skin. from the south
is a warmth struggling to overtake our doors and hearts, to come in. candles
candles, on my clock, bleed light upon the tics and knocks of identity, the
idiosyncracies that seem to shed. perchance to dread, inside my dreams, within
my head. like an axis tilted and in perpetual motion, we are spinning alongside
similar trajectories, projecting and adding to the orbit of ourselves, our moons
unearth themselves, bring weight, bring gravity on a situational basis. you keep
pulling, a tether, a leash that keeps my breathing uneasy. underneath our lids
there is a presence, holding an orb upon these fingers, these mild remains,
these small whispers contain comfort and closeness. come up against me, brush
my chest and leave a slowness, caving in. leave a motion. coax again.
red sky at morning is my first warning, a V pointing downwards towards my destination, red and vibrantly looming. I haven’t been sleeping well the past couple days, it’s been quite fitfull, hard to still my mind and put it to rest.
expect nothing. the pattern will be filled or broken. that is all. a room will either be silent or resounding notes. a heart can either be open or broke. take your time.
plant a tree over me when i die and you’ve put me in the ground. grow a garden around me and mushrooms. let the mycelium root around me like a fibrous cocoon.
adieu ma cherie, and with that our paths split into two paths. one urban one rural. she followed the snap dragon path away from me and i followed my self imposed misery back to my old house, my current base camp. when your energy is so intently focused on that of another persons, you can notice subtle shifts in their persona, subtle shifts which illicit reactions from you. when i left the room, he prepared himself for her. got dressed up nice in a vest he knew she liked, pulled his suspenders up tight. when he heard her laugh outside the window he forgot everything else. he dropped it all carelessly onto the bed and his heart sped as she walked up the stairs. he would never let her see him as stressed as he had been all day. it was a self proclaimed vow, to clean it all up before she arrived. to let it hide. impurities covered, shaded by the moons bright glow or thunderclouds looming slow. instantly i noticed the movement of energy from me to him to her. I became a blur, my vocal chords tightened, watched my stress signals rising like a local tide. he hugged me to tightly when i left (to what end? for what reasoning?) almost like he was trying to hold on to me. he knew i was running. i am running away from you, i am running away from feelings i am too tired to face, from reactions i am too tired to fall into. i am running back into the calm of myself.
where there is no one else except silence.
POST APOCALYPTIC BLUES ON THE BAREFOOT STAMPED BURIAL GROUND>WE WEAR FLOWER CROWNS/PATELLA HEARTS> WE FIND BANANAS IN THE ENJOY LIFE DUMPSTER AND WE SAUNTER SINGLE FILE THROUGH THE OVERGROWN UNDERGROWTH>TOUCHED BODIES AND OPEN HEARTS FEEL SORE WHEN CARESSED> FEEL BEST WHEN SUNNED UP OR COOLLY DIPPED IN SHALLOW WATERS>LAID TO DRY AND REST AS ANIMALS DO> AS MAMMALS WERE MEANT TO> I WONT FEEL A THING ANYMORE AS HUMANS DO< IVE GOT A ROBOTIC HEART AND A RACOONS PELT> IVE GOT ONE VERTEBRAE AND ONE PELVIS ROTTING AND MELDING INTO FOREST FLOORED INSECT CASTLES
i keep on walking
holding the ground
despite the pull of the world
i keep on talking
whispers of sound
despite the wind moving in swirls
up my spine
like a voice traversing speakers
could enter and exit
with a sigh.
up the strings
up and down the lane
a white blur
turns my gender
to a sway
turns my black sheets
to a wrestling scene
a den of waves and ripples
of sulphur and harmoniums
liquid and liquor
an ocean in which
to swim/to sleep
“let us go then you and i
when the evening is spread out
against the sky”
cut scene: to a mobile unit of limbs.
a shadow detaches and takes me down the street
in a long drawling sprawl of legs at arms
and curtails dancing in the autumn wind.
cut scene: to me pouring down the sidewalk
all chalk and rhymes, all clock – no time.
a soul – moves into consciousness – enacts on form – creates form – a new space to form – a manifesting of entities to swarm about and pulse – in and out of the space between stars – a space that is not space – a depth that is endless yet ended – in one sweet stillness – a million of us are one – are one in a million – i’m swimming in the pages of atomic structure – i’m studying the lines on your face and the molecules that depart from your skin – i’m running through the streets again all rowdy and released – i’m not afraid to be here – i’m not afraid to be or un:be – knowing now how frequently death and life move about – a snake with his tail in his mouth – shuffled about by the winds or simplicity – antiquity or dreams.