Before the world was steady and still– soft ankle grass hugging loose. The blades didn’t breathe (me neither) my hair caught the chapstick (staying put) I held the book with one hand— not a page shivered. But the clouds are moving faster, now, breezy currents come. My hair tocks like a windshield wiper the grass rushes (still soft, it tickles) my two fingers … Read More Precipice
It does not appear that this sun shall set nor the melody in my mind to cease; I do not feel I shall ever be hungry nor recollect that feeling of cold. The sky mirrors my mind— empty and warm and without agenda— I find, in having no destination, I have come to where I should be.
I see the sea lap the rocks the streaky current pulsing sinuous but smooth & tall my breath is still & the wind is still— the wind is so still. My cross-legged legs are streaky pulsing currents the spine shaped by carpenters with bendy rulers I count on one hand all the thoughts I think— man that wind is so still. Cloudless skies … Read More Romance
When spending a day in aimless enjoyment of the surrounding scenery, of the sounds a soul makes when it hears all those birds, of the capital position of being, I get this remarkable lightness in my heels and begin to bound more than walk. Sometimes, in between long conversations with myself, I opt for a spot of heel clicked and random dancing. Christchurch was … Read More A Christchurch Couchsurf
How warm the rain this morning! It is a morning to sing along with— the rain a drum beat on the roof of my helmet the whoosh of rubber through puddle a cymbal I let all the car alarms, too, be bird song and my grin swells with the wind and the clouds. It is a day to breathe, like the wind, a … Read More With the Earth Like This
I trudge through the desert while balancing the water on my back, blinking to uproot the flies and to bat away the sticky sweat from rolling in my eyes. My vision is blurred by endlessness; no mountain no tree no landmark just dunes and this dusty shuffle casting fiery shadow prints. My feet sink ever deeper, deeper in the blister sand with every … Read More What do you find? I beg my soul
I’m not going to tell you what happened. Not about the woman I met, nor the shades of green on the hillsides against the coal black sand dunes. That’s not what you want to read about. I know this–I think I know this–because that’s not what I want to write about, either. “No man really knows about other human beings. The best he can do is … Read More Master Puppeteer
Me You hate me for what I did in Israel, and you still harbor anger for the destruction of Japan and Vietnamese children. I hate you for what you did in New York even though you’re half a world away from the Middle East; you’re brown and practice Islam so it still counts.