Ka-Boom

It's late
I was almost asleep on the couch two hours ago
not that I count things like hours of sleep
or measure time in the degree of the sun
that all passed long ago

meandering across the skin
I smell lingering fatigue

There's not too much to say. I lost whatever that something was that held me together it just poofed and now I have the strangest sense that all that's left is a shell of what once was, action set in motion carried out over routine. Less and less oh as the sun's rays wane and I know there is light gaining just beyond the edge of the horizon.

secrets, I used to tell them

I lost all sense to beauty

my integrity strapped

incumbent

don't ask me to stay

because I cannot go

don't ask me to come

I must stay

the great divide

everything that keeps me together
falls apart

countdown

10 weeks left this year

this was supposed to be a banner year
and it has been

only
rolled up and into tube
packed up and away
along side the dust bunnies
long
time ago
I believed
in dancing

turtles all the way down

I am planning on going back to school. what a dream of the quiet simple life I hold dear to my breast.

they ask complicated questions like "what is your current mailing address" as if I am just supposed to be able to rattle that off easy as pie.

anyhow.

I am not homeless just don't have an address or a car.

my heart breaks against the walls of my chest and beats with the longing of a long harbored barge. 

I use people up

wear them out
listless lack of ambition

I spent my aptitude
on youth

Burn the Holdings

My life can fit under a table
except the horse
he is too tall to settle for living under a table

I don't know how I fee;
about the not going as planned
the quick decisions
and the sudden bursts of make a choice now

but I do know
the hunger for sharp and hot
and desire for the long slow regeneration
as skin pulls back together
seams tight back to itself

not today instead more coffee

if that ain't vanilla

I just got booted out of my place

*le sigh*

suppose I ought to care more

than I do

about all sorts of things

like the shortening days

or the clockwork return of Jesus

season

I wrap into blankets

voices muffled through curtains

filter in from outside

stray distinguishable words

*my  understanding*

I can't help but think that's

exactly the problem

that and suburban sprawl

tangential memories

I've been through the battlefields

facetious inner-terrain banished

I have three jobs

looking for the forth

wielding hammer, cake, cappuccino,

smiles and grace

wind and crisp stars rivet my attention

my heart not still

I await a reckoning

there was a silence in that chaos

I'd forgotten

grateful, I returned to my senses 

boot straps

I've been told one can judge a man based on the quality and condition if his shoes. 

my boots are old. my feet have pressed miles into their soles. the scuffed toes and dusty cracks speak of labor, early mornings, manure. I oil them and pray.

I am working three jobs earning dollars and pride.

I pray for one more week-- as if that span will provide me clarity of mind.

my heart beats along as I wake in the predawn hours to pick up a hammer so that I can buy new boots that don't have miles if history cracked into the cracks. 

love, my love, lifts the edges of oblivion

scours the terrain

feasting 

love is gentle

to all of you I disregarded

took for granted and

abandoned

forgive me,

I lost more than my bearings

now that I remember

surfacing for air

the sea's dead calm surface

belayed its currents

I have less

to hold now

hold me gently

lips to my ear

as I wake

six ways to Sunday

(look around and wonder

here

circling round suns and years)

dishes stacked with

half-baked breakfast remnants

linger on the counter

in the sink

I, foolhardy, contrite, damp

scrub the caked egg off the china

in hopes that the cracked

porcelain doesn't chip further

perfunctory remission

Haunted by death's sallow pallor

I watch waxen hollow faces

from across the bar

nine minus

tomorrow 

here is to moments 

and the hot tip of a nail

and the razor's edge longs

and hot food a memory

I turn to resolve

and count seconds as private victories

against the inevitable tick tock

patience of Job

my grandmother used to tell my mom

"you have the patience of Job,"

as she sat picking snarls

from strands of necklaces.

my stomach is in knots

as I think back

to all of the times

why-not-maybe

became more common than yes. 

my heart

hunted the most dangerous game

I started saying yes

but my stomach is still in knots 

land shark

the tide rises

being pulled up by dawn's

silken peach

glow over the horizon

another day in paradise, I mumble to the rents in my heart. it's not so much that I mind being the last very last because my papa always said, the meek shall inherit the earth.

in the quiet I mistook humility for shame

traded respect for acceptance

Peter is wondering when he is going to be paid

enough enough enough

kool aid

no, no, know now

we filter together

across oblivion

grow these secrets

stitch them into sunshine

forge rumors

out of starlight

meandering trajectory

stumbled upon intelligence

the application for happiness

requires more than a number

Spammers Love this Wormhole

http://ne-cede.blogspot.com/2007/01/perspicacious.html

I wish I could remember what was on my mind when I wrote that oh so ever so long ago.

Happiness and peace stem from self-mastery.

Dreams May Come

The days long ago
when small boxes full of empty promise
filled my pockets


Winter approaches
the boundary of summer's lingering light

reflects off skin wet with sweat

Hibernation and soup and books and woolen sweaters
stars silent across the frozen sky
my breath exhales summer

I am in and out friends, in and out. On the lam, my wings spread, I opened myself up to what-may-come and standing here in the great welcome what-may-come I find myself intact and quiet. I suppose that I would like to explain how I finally start to understand that I've made a mess of my talents, not applied myself rigorously in my pursuits. If I were to say that, I would be a liar.

I take aim
exhale and steady my approach

Help is on the way

drinking pink noise

to all of you

dismantled in sunset's

drunken twilight glow

I stand limbed

singing whispered

strategies of

past melancholies

keeping it classy

I stopped digging

holes to nowhere's

heartache

The year's accomplishment:

a pit with a stone floor

and a glass ceiling;

a stone well, a deep spring, a bucket on a chain, a roof to keep the water pure.

perspective is pleasure

value added

that's not me

I don't bring enough

to the table

my heart burns in my throat

haut hesher is the new black

gliding through the half empty cvs parking lot 

on the rear tire of his bmx

back to sunset

caught free of the moment when anybody's watching anybody

rolling reversing my memories

reverberate and exacerbate my

cranium

I stand in tandem with the wind's exhales 

you say yea, ya know

and mumble in and out of yourself

this is me here

sitting back

and forth

rocking

embraces

a tranquil oasis 

make some noise

play with some toys

oh if it ain't

boys

skipping slapping sucking

fucking, longingly

now give

the last five days I've spent destructing my histories: fashion a school dropout; almost a housewife; daughter, sister, lost friend. haunting streets I used to know, I find less and less worth holding onto but this right now.

I sit, drink coffee, smoke cigarettes; Seattle has changed, I have too. 

love's ability to slip into forgotten cracks feeds my bones and sunsets awaken my yearning for fingers on skin. 

chapped

five stops for fuel, three cigarettes, one sugar-free redbull, nap, five hour energy, smoothie, raspberry yogurt, and 615 miles later I arrived in Portland.  

riding my motorcycle all day through endless construction zones and the heat in full leathers leaves my ass sore and my hands calloused. my ears buzz and I am chilled, happily exhausted, and ready for more. though the future is unknowable, I am, in this moment, content. 

adventure sox and all

stardust

shambles made from the bits of straw and string, a feather I found along the creek, decorate my life. packing it all up in my mind, the magic, the memories, the kisses captured by starlight, I move out across the unknown.

strength comes in form, beauty holds the space between our breath. every night I pray to fall in love again with all of you. 

salt of the earth

there are times

when life tucks surprises

in boxes

one hundred dollars

found secreted away

long enough to be forgotten

friends

who are more than family

my backbone, wishbone, heart

sign waves

we move into focus

before the shift

sends us back

From Today Comes Tomorrow

I move and shake and dissipate

edges of

molting purple green

garish bruises

left to wonder

to whom

rowdy, refined, resplendent

July breaks open. a thick hot blanket of air hangs heavily over the valley. the potential for oppressive heat is sweltering. instead I think about the end of the day and how ill slip into the cool of the creek and hang myself out to dry.

I am working endless days. the languorous nights are skin and sweat and bodies finding creative ways to touch innocuously. laid out on picnic blankets surrounded by empty bottles of wine and half turned glasses legs and arms and bellies melt against the earth. we are all too young too hot too blurred to remember names. I light another joint and lay back staring through the olive trees. 

spoils

A friend called today

I answered

We spoke

Our lives contain each other's

We talk about men

We laugh tears about men

these hands belong to me

digits attached

move mountains

suffering complexities

I abide between the lines

left unwritten

mumbled into pillows

yelled into my helmet

while I ride the twist turns

of river road

sunset

a few Mondays back

the only mantra I knew

reverberating the face shield 

fellows

it's usually me

who breaks

first

a tempered weld

is stronger

than the original

my metal bones

reknit

feint

the ghost left my body, leaving me exhausted but incorporated. the ups and downs of June: tidal waters murky with flotsam; loose dreams and expansive horizons; late nights and later dawns. 

the necessity of pain and the place where finally letting go and accepting perfection in its  tangible form allows me to exhale. 

faith based living allows love without expectation. 

Love's Fool

I am a fool for love

I am not a fool for loving
carelessly, with abandon
regular as an inhale

The chips
leave them

spinning scattering suspended in air

clocks keep time

I calculate the number of hours

measure them in sunsets

sage brush

changing topography

Between your home and mine

miles split the horizon

into days

Let the Darkness Return, or An Ode to Summer

As

compulsion fades

the desperation, the lost mind and wandering spirit

took time to settle and look at themselves 

to see their reflection

pained

Breathing in

a whole, deep breath

I threw my towel on the floor

exited the ring of despair

I build

a little clay house

shaped like a heart

lit from within

Inside

the warmth overtook me

light joy rememberance

part of god

all of god

none of god

love

reflects out

infinite exponential growth

opening opening opening

further wider 

encompassing embracing accepting 

each and every scar

and every mar

that has stained 

the glass window 

lovely by day, they sparkle and shine

in the darkness of night under a an empty moon 

its splendor revealed

lit from within

the wind and I have this thing

For a moment I was that happy girl

and it felt amazing 

to be with 

someone 

that

I

chose

I felt that

incredible, beautiful

I would rather hold all of that those memories in my heart

to look back on examine as pearls on a long string

I've been saying so long

I love my friends, I like to fuck strangers

there's a part of me that would like to keep fucking you

so I think

maybe it's best

if we

stay 

strangers 

a little longer

she moves more than mountains

Giving my heart out out out fearlessly
breathing

the catch in my throat

my dreams are my inspiration
I love

across the sunset of desire
beyond the canyons of our forgotten memories

I pull into myself

I've been sleeping long and relatively hard the last days. Oversleeping and to be frank I've needed it, part of my program is flexibility in the process of figuring out how to take care about my needs.

my love contains multitudes

sunrise yawns through my open bedroom window

wakening my senses restored

responding to the cool cotton sheets

oh how I love

heartbreak's spill-over

I take the Unknown

Between you and the cliff

I take the later

Fresh like a breeze

the daisy

the maybe 

is

too

strong

I recover my wits

discover memory

urges me

to explore

lands less traveled

songs unsung

limitless language

secrets spoken

to the wind carried on wings to my ears

Shade in the Desert

I threw my heart's

chambers

open

to pause

before the precipice

gusts tempt

wind howls

my heart aloft

swiftly soaring

steadfast home

lord, how do I love

The warmth of the sun radiates through the cedar wall and though I sit inside I feel its rays. 

today, these days, I better my heart. I struggle. I fight myself into submission. I avoid hot metal and booze and drugs that bend the truth.

supposing that love, simple love, opens locked boxes: what bones would be laid bare; would those places skeletons haunt in dusky half light, be swept and mopped and shine?

oh how I grow faint from desire

how i long for hot metal and booze and drugs which tell half truths. 

compression

unexplained weight loss

what would I do without you

those who've seen the shine's

tarnished luster

wax and wane

I hung from my hips-

swaying in the quarter moon breeze 

mashing my right lateral femoral nerve

into numb submission

I look for solace in

sugilite fluorite lepidolite tonics

infused with the waxing moon

fennel and rosemary

the posts have been sunk and the flowers planted

what's left is to tend the garden

I am a farmer's daughter

he spoke to plants and they grew

I woke at 03:32

before dawn's birds began their calls

but after the chittering coyotes finished

the offering I left across the meadow

my eyes bolt open heart racing 

mind mind mind spinning 

I've taken to crystals and mediation

because now

I don't run from my heart's shadow

meeting william Carlos Williams

I am at jenni's, staying in her authentically rustic cabin above dry creek general store. she's nuts for the quiet combination of Danish modern and cowboy and just enough dishes. I've taken to living solo like a flower to sun and fear the waiting confines of my estrogen hostile dorm. but, I suppose, that's the price for playing princess at pony palace. 

these days I am not worth much else. I've got a penchant for booze tend to smoke unfiltered cigarettes and drink my coffee black and whatever temperature I find it. 

I can flex my back, write backwards

and 

upside down

at the same time

one armed push ups

and a tequila sunrise

anyhow tomorrow I need to return to life as I've known it and I could almost rip all the skin from my arms

just thinking 

A Minute, Like an Hour

I've been happily camping out alone in downtown Healdsburg since monday. And by camping I mean living in a moderately overly designed guest cottage with on-demand hot water and a programable skylight. By alone, I mean my mother showed up (typical!) on thursday evening because she has satsang weekend in Petaluma, which is about 45 minutes south of me, as we all know my mom wouldn't make a trip specifically for me mostly because I wouldn't invite her.

She asked if she could stay all weekend (just in the evenings, nights, and mornings as her days are occupied with satsang, so it wouldn't be all that much trouble for me.)

I said, No.

Because I like to walk around nude, or in short shorts and boots, smoking weed and trying on new lipsticks while dancing to Ella Fritzgerald. I like to go out for a quick cocktail at ten, just because I can. I like to sleep with the windows thrown open and listen to music in the morning as I ready myself for the day ahead.

Not against her, not really. Instead, the action was Pro-Chaya. I am cherishing moments alone, the solitude of the stars and the whisper of fresh sheets. It's been six years since I've had a house to myself and I am up for some overdue recalibration of how I operate when left to my own devices.

I have a plan to float me through summer and fall.

Nail Me Down

Things are not going as planned
I am losing a battle against myself
the things that I never thought to think
are being brought to the front of my mind

pried apart
and hung out to dry
in the hot california sun,
I bake myself brown.

And I take all that I can in one inhale
before I sip in
just a little more
laying back on my pillow I drift across dreams

And the screams in my head are all in my mind
and the times in my heart are all out of line
and the ring in my ears is the curse of my fears

Nail me down
I fear so little but love

Silent Across

I am not very nice these days and my ADD when it works, keeps me high functioning.

I've been sharing my room since the beginning of february and now finally four months later, I start to lose my nerve. I miss solitude and the quiet hour before dawn when I can sit alone with hot coffee and a blank screen ahead of me and craft out the rising dawn.

Finding that I have too much in my mouth to chew I begin spitting responsibilities onto the dirt. Especially the unchosen, unelected ones.

I was informed recently that I am too old to be such a bitch and that if I never ever have any intention of fucking a man, then I best tell him tout suite.

we've met b4

and I didn't like you the third time. so to hit, your fave bang peaced out-I've heard your gripes before and I don't give a shit. are you incredible? my bed time's long time forgotten and I am left with tips

ride like hell

I rode out late yesterday afternoon watching myself for over my right shoulder. dislocation or disembodiment for me is painful and reminiscent of a fractured youth. throttle open I started to think about choices.

I find that when i am purely responsive to life I lose focus and in my distraction begin to despair. I could have died today. I know that's true everyday but somedays more than others. swerving around the escalade making the illegal left my heart didn't skip a beat. my body is a map of my heart and my mind makes choices without my body's consent.

Misguided and Malcontent

Inside my head, I love you

My heart breaks on the stones of my mind

Hot points of steel against the valley of my hips

Map the trajectory of my ascent 

Against the odds to press against the sky

Sorrow's fractured shame

Hot nickel coats the back of my throat

No amount of remembering lets me forget

Something Like Heartbreak

I've taken to whiskey
and long-distance phone calls

Alone I am standing
against the wall

Waiting for someone to ask me to dance
the watermelon crawl

I Danced like the Devil

I had some unanswered questions about an affair I had last year. In my head I'd left it vaguely lovely, beautiful, a special bubble of him and me against the world.

I crushed that dream and now I know I will never go back. Not just to him, but to people who don't give a fuck, much less about me. No judgement, no opposition, just basic acknowledgment that somewhere along the line I became valuable.

I found my way to an old friend's apartment in the city and let myself in with the keys he gave me years ago. I undressed, pulled on pajamas and blankets, and fell asleep waiting for him to come home. He came in turned on the heater and tucked me in for the night. We talked a little but mostly we don't need words to clarify things.

I find love everywhere and nowhere. My heart is full; I am so broke; my birthday is moments away; I am free.

Hot to Trot

It happened— out of air and dust came a wedding with 56 adults and three kids from across the country to watch two friends do that thing. It wasn't horrible; I heard it was the best wedding most people have ever been to. It may have been the lights in the barn aisle, or the mandolin player, or the arbor; most likely it was the combination of sweat and tears that soaked the three weeks of planning that went into pulling off that event.

It was far from horrible.

So, then, why do I feel empty, hollow, vacant. More and more I know that I am cut from a cloth that doesn't match. The eclipsing wave of satisfaction has passed and whatever I forgot to remember I buried in two bottles of champagne while cleaning up the wreckage.