Category: Gratitude

Self Serving

  I wrote myself some love poems today, outlined in sun near the ocean’s smile. The waves beat down upon charcoal rocks and up frothed a great many minerals. I absorbed them all, flesh-first, like the fern drinks in the rain. I loved myself with pen and with sun; when thirsty, I drank; when hungry, I ate; when sleepy, I slept—and felt no reason … Read More Self Serving

Write Long

  Be patient, and write long. As long as the strokes of your eye lashes pulse the fingers to keys, then both of us remain alive. Be patient. Your dreams have no anchors; let them float light. Let the throat grow easy and jaw relax. Open and close the hinges of your mouth and feel the knobs of your shoulders merge with the elbows. … Read More Write Long

The Rock and the River

  At the top of the outcrop I sat with my knee-bones tight to my chest— the river undulated below, swirling in shades of blues and yellows refracted light on stones of marble the guttural current cut the cliff to slices–jagged & twisted and

Sourdough Soul

  Don’t ask me to do that. Don’t ask me anything, actually, I’m in deep, deep fermentation & have no flyers to hand out today.

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Creative Process

  Three cheers of a dusted dawn; electric angels sweep the streets, and light clouds skip stones against the still lavender waters of the canal. Earth sings her morning tune, low and orange against the cool palm breeze. Creation calms and tells me I must start today from the inside. No half expressions.

Investment

  Financing a mind with a paradigm; shuffling incessantly past cardboard mementos, digging for that spare cash we’ve got flapping around in the love seat. Who’s to win in this array of dissonance, this projection screen?

Skin Sounds

  Joy arrives soundless in a cool morning breeze; sunrise rattles through oak palm trees, cooing as she goes, swishing through the drooping leaves. Infinite moments heard by skin only.

Gentle

  Collapsing I tucked my head against my chest and listened to my heart beat. Strong it whispered and my ego faltered and I could hear the ego falter— and I, faltering, briefly exposed an open window to torrential rain marooned against a million chairs held up hardly at all. The trick is always to let the rain in and the carpet go.

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But Surely

  Surely it can’t all be cast to the tan lines. The sun—our cicerone across this celestial plane, casting her silhouettes upon skin shapes etch-a-sketching that which we outfit ourselves with— Surely. That can’t be it. Because I see him

Let There Be Ease

  Mahalo, my love for your blue eyes. For the soul eyes impressed on my own when I rest & let shoulders lie easy. Let all the palm trees be breezy. Let the waves on sand shores crest.

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Timing

  You appeared at the perfect time. Whilst break dancing through religious break-throughs, breakfasting on white light hues, she saw you and the life-guard got off the chair for her turn in the waves.

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The Gradual Shelf of the Sea

  Two final footsteps echoed against the scratched glass door & off we were— murmuring swampy lives away, lobbing for ourselves the God-given champagne against the bobbing she-queen, Queen of the Nile. Life was in bubbles, great wads of the stuff, tacky & sweet and still criss-crossed in hot-blooded pen— the deeper we burrowed in our footstep murmurs, the deeper we saw; until the … Read More The Gradual Shelf of the Sea