Tuesday, January 31, 2017

I did not choose
the earth that was there
to greet me
as I exited the womb
nor the bullets nor the blood
nor the drought
nor the poison nor the walls

I did not choose the shadows
that met me with the introduction
of the light

the only dream I carried
with me to this world
was to have the room
for this heart
to just be free
to beat

Sunday, January 22, 2017

maybe there's a difference
between knowing the depth of reality
and opting not to play
and being weaned from the womb
straight onto whatever
makes you numb

like wearing sun glasses
in the middle of the night
doesn't hide the dark
nor make you forget
to bring your light

the way injecting glossy mags
and neon signs
keep some from ever waking up
to learn the truth of dark
and that we are here to shine

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Crone's Dance

she shook her ass
no less than seven times
and with every flick of her hips
she created a star
her pelvis intoning inflections
birthing gyrating galaxies
hungry to be filled
with planetary forces
and the insatiation
of gravitational charge
all of this in the dark
to hide the truth
that she was not so sexless
as she had claimed
but a woman
who perspired worlds
between her thighs
invisible on the other side
where she folded quantumly
and disappeared
in the black hole
of their eyes

This woke me up from the first fifteen minutes of kinda deep sleep I got last night. Heard it and wrote it. For whatever reason.  And forgot it until I found it in my phone notes just now.

Saturday, January 14, 2017

I cross the desert
without knowing
if you are on the other side
without knowing
if I hold enough years
to barter for miles
for the dream of a quicksilver sun
dancing always from one horizon
toward the next

I wet my lips
with the thought of you
keep my skin from cracking
with the dressings
of your illumination
when you are made of silver
and silk
and I have become too much
this sand
and would not know how
to touch and cup you
if ever I reached oasis
where dream bubbles from the ground
to be tasted on the tongue

while my left hand
is Hamsa
its dexterity only for dream
inside of dream
my right is rough and blistered
from guiding too hard
with these reins
and it can only be the journey
for the journey's sake
without an end to reach
thirsting with the dream
of a destination that comes to seek
the one who seeks to find
to deliver its quicksilver love
as water in a cup 

Sunday, January 1, 2017

sometimes we forget
this place is a place of forgetting
because we are wanting
to remember
and we think that it's enough

and then when the movement starts
we don't always recognize
the rip has come
to carry us
too far out to sea
or if we do we fight
without the strength to overcome
and drown

sometimes remembering
means exiting out the side
of the path of most momentum
to wait for the natural movement
of the moon
to guide us back to shore