08-07-2006

I can feel the pain of my isolation starting up again.
My chewed down and bony fingers are tasteless
and look brittle and tired as the forground of this paper.
My eyes feel weak, aged and dry,
with a certain crispness like my lips for years.
Something simple, with a fairy tale attached.
Gold dust on my shoulder and a grin stretched from ear to ear.
Some safety repellent and a black board for learning,
married to chalk and an eraser.

-a
Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Orange Cones

One time a year, if you’re even so lucky:
two lives uncommon with complete common ground.

Forever feelings of culture shock.
Every place, no matter how familiar, will always feel foreign.
Every city.
Every state.
Every moment.
Everything (no matter how big).

Self-sabatoge equals self-preservation, insecure and shivering.
From point A to point B, and than back again.
It's a faint and shaky path, uphill both ways.
My heart is a triumphant open wound,
it remains open and big and warm and knowing.
But its the careful exterior layer that is tricky,
the delicate but inpenetrable shield by all the things that they’ve done.
Easy to talk about with someone who could sing of its history,
of the wars that it's seen.
(there are few who can even carry a tune this grand in scheme)

Eyes will always roll skyward when I speak of this nature.
Surround me by orange cones and maybe then I’ll feel protected.
I lead a chalkboard life with far too many erasers and not enough songs.
I know what I know, and I feel what I feel...

Moments like this are too big to be luck or coincidence.
I’m not talking in a daydream, this is not idealism or illusion.
A snapshot of a moment that goes by too fast with a flawed rewind button.
A moment I love more than the last time that I dreamed it.
It's the road map and directions that I can’t move without knowing.
It's the story and the safety net I can’t be me without hearing.
It's the end and the beginning, with everything in between.
It's two lives uncommon, but complete common ground.

-a
Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

little shadow

I like it best when it's cold in here.
Cold on the inside.
Cold all around me.
But when chilly tipi ears remind me I'm being selfish,
I love the warm even more.
A California-State-of-Mind is just a fancy way of saying
an Explosive-Insecure-Way-of-Being.
My cat has more soul than you.
His heart is full and thriving, and I inspire to be like him.
I love shadows in the dark
because they are Spooky.
And I love everything Spooky
because I love my little shadow.
Everything Spooky knows everything me.
And everything Spooky loves everything me.
And that's when I'm whole.
I owe you more than an insurance card for all that you heal.
I owe you more than the pedestal I hold you so high on.
You are my life, my partner, my best friend.
What's mine is everything yours.
This union of souls intertwined, simply meant to be.
You are everything.
You are wise and you are warm.
You are my little shadow, you are more.
You are me, I am you.
You are the best teacher I know.
And I love you more now than I ever have in my whole life.