Cosmos Procession

there is this pithless entity
circling round my gut
waxing and waning
folding in infinite measures
like stiff cloth finding creases
that fit

and I caress this part
inside which has no fold
or definite pattern

but there is this power
and it increases as the light
of lesser days burn into night

brightly devouring
all intricate beings
willing them to speak
in hushed whispers
bathed by blackness

completely surrounded am I
a vagrant soul departed
yearning for this star of gasses
to not combust but
slowly awaken

and you spark that within me
heavy and unaware
a messy cloth of vibrance
washed and wrung and folded gently
with shaking hands and thumping breath

the atmosphere surrounding
all that is real

enveloping my body as it speaks
of glorious wonders
operating deep
within the cosmos

where air is sealed tight
like a vacuum and

I can't help but breathe in
even though
I know
I'll suffocate

Sick

It is not folly to be sick
bodies breaking down
stripping flesh from mind
separating the viruses and germs
from taking over
like a plague
devouring health
like a sick game
of wit.

But wit came and went
and determination stayed
like a whip breaking
receding
dissolving
into the earth
all pain vanished
the moment love came into the picture bringing a sense of sensitivity, sensibility, belonging, grace, peacefulness, and harmony. The balance of nature is to be mature not unlike like manure becoming compost for flowers.

Something like sickness
or suckness or swiftness
can only be surface material
marching forward
getting stronger every day
weakened by germs and viruses
weakened by wanting
weakened by longing
to become something greater and grander than ever imagined.

To be sick
is to surrender.

Is to lie in the wet dirt
called mud
and be covered by rain and leaves
becoming mulch for the trees.

Wet. Withered. Weak and surviving.

And once the sickness passes,
bodies grow sturdy
become thick roots
winding deeper into earth’s crust
the inner and outer layers
changing dust
into mud
into mulch
into compost
into sprouts
into plants
into gardens
into parks
there unto infinity
back into dust
and the beautiful cycle
starts

all over again.

and the seasons come and go
and the sickness comes and goes
and the flowers and fruits and vegetables grow and grow
and grow and grow and grow

into someone to be proud of.

[Untitled]

The deepest depths cannot
hide the light
it cannot snuff it out.
The light is stronger than the darkness.
You are not alone.
I am here.
I will always be here.
Deep breaths and sound mind.
All will be alright.

Terrified of the Future

I feel terrible and terrified of the future extremely turned on and horny with bodies changing and that still scares me and losing and gaining weight scares me and inconsistency scares me and passionate love still scares me.
I feel terrified and terrible about the future but also terrific and tormented and terrestrial and torn.

Waiting, Always Waiting

I feel like that’s the story of my life

waiting

always waiting

whether it be in lines for merch or in line for love I seem to always be waiting until I get there and the moment of torture has past and even though I’m alone in line right now pretending to text but I’m actually writing stream-of-consciousness because waiting in line alone to get autographs of merch I do not have yet is extremely excruciating but worth it in the end the waiting and hoping and wallowing is always worth it in the end because now I know how the universe works

through saying something will happen

letting that wish or hope go

flying free in the wind of reality and

just when you’ve forgotten that you’ve asked for something

it happens in real-life

it becomes your own reality

but you have to let it go

in order for it to

manifest into something tangible and magical and beautiful and raw

I feel like that’s the story of my life

waiting

always waiting

but I’ve accepted that everything great comes after everything awful and you can’t have one without the other

yin and yang

full circle round

and just when you’ve given up

it happens.

The Elf in My Pants is Making Me Dance Away from My Responsibilities

Mad at myself
Mad at myself
Why am I always
so mad at myself?
Cut clients short
time is but a construct but
this is my second or third complainant this week or last week and it’s like I’m impatient and cut their time short always middle-aged blond women maybe I’m projecting maybe I’m not so bad, maybe I’m just tired and lazy and being catty

I’m mad at myself
I’m mad at my actions
Waiting until last minute to register for classes got a way in but it’s becoming a disaster
I’m mad at my actions
I’m mad at myself
I’m no longer a child
on the fucken shelf
that needs to be helped
that needs her hand held
while doing every grown-up step
I’m mad at myself
I’m mad at myself
Mad at myself
At myself
Myself
Self
Elf
Am I an elf?
Why did I fuck up?
Why did I fuck it up?
Why am I stuck?
Why do I suck?

I can salvage it all
I can stop my fucken fall
So shitty I feel
It almost feels unreal
Work and School
I’m stacking
and slacking
I’m procrastinating
and waiting
I’m fucking up
and fucking it up
So mad at myself
So mad at my elf
So mad to be a self on the shelf
of childhood fighting adulthood fighting endless deadlines ending early making my clients pissed and not want to come back because they feel like they don’t matter because I’m cutting their sessions short or running late or taking my sweet damn time, acting like a shorty clown and in grad school I sent all those emails out but then go awol and have so many doubts that I’m making mistakes and failing just a little bit and I don’t get it

Why am I doing this?
Why are they so pissed?
Why can’t I shake off my fears and fully fucken get into gear
until I work this work this out
until I forge my life with sound
until this mountain of mourning or sorrow splits like the hilt of a samurai blade splitting grain becoming fits of bulbous rage and it feels like I’ve gotten a bad grade in life not a C or a D but a big fat F

Full of strife
I can’t eat
I can’t sleep
I fucked up
I’m in heat
I’m in love
in my head
and my heart’s
full of dread
I’m upset
I’m aloof
I’m unaware
and a goof
I fucked up
I’m alright
I’ll make it all right
I’ll make it all better
I’ll stop straying off the beaten path
I’ll get wetter
and wetter
so soaked and sloshy I’ll
be okay and forgive myself
I’m no longer mad at myself
No longer mad at myself
I forgive myself
Forgive myself
Myself
Self
Elf

Everything Will Be Okay

I will be okay

I will be alright

I am at peace with myself and the world around me

I feel anger but know it too shall pass

I feel lust and know that it soon shall pass

I feel love and know it will not pass because it is me and everyone else

I will be alright

I will be okay

I will walk into the unknown and find what I was looking for

I will eventually understand

I will understand

I understand

That all is well

even when it’s not

That my boundaries are lacking
and it’s hard to say no and it’s hard to tell the truth and it’s hard to let go and it’s hard to transition and it’s hard to live and love and be in love and be in love with the idea of love

I will be

I will

I

[Untitled]

Before the Haircut:
nervous & terrified & excited & ready & petrified & shaky & strange & waiting & weird & overwhelmed & oddly calm & calmly exploding everywhere internally combusting

After the Haircut:
happy & cheerful & excited & terrified & satisfied & weird & raw & empty & badass & strong & zen & oddly calm & strange & silly & overwhelmed & solid & awake & aware & no longer about to combust

Waiting in Line at the Prana Sale

On a day like today
Love can really happen
Waiting for the family to get ready
It really worked out nicely today,
didn’t it? So nicely. Full of massages and good cheer. Prana sales and laughter all around. My dear friend, thanks for being in my life and teaching me so many things. My dear parents, thank you for easing me into the person I am today and thank you for being so loving and giving and open. I learn from everyone, and in turn, they learn from me. Life is beautifully grand.
On a day like today, Love can really happen. Love can blossom in ways unexpected unsurprising and flavorful in its reverence.

Waiting at IKEA

Not sure where the family
behind us is from
but they are reciting scripture
in the mess hall cafeteria.
This lingon berry soda is almost finished and my patience is almost finish and I don’t know if I can handle what lies ahead of me and my satire stature.
It’s like I forgot how to write;
forgot how to type;
forgot how to spell and tell if I was right. It’s like I’m a meatball
floating off the plate
about to plummet
on the cold, hard ground.

Stopped Up In Texas

Plunge it out
stuck
stock
stick
sometimes it’s stopped up
like a turkey, stuffed.
Stiff and smelly,
stinky like old rotten cheese.
Multiple times
never gets it out
enough it’s stuck and sick
like a dog overheated
in the hot sun but today
the air is gloomy and it’s 51 degrees
of clouds and cold and flat paths and looming dry desert mountains.

Stick it out, stick in Texas,
just near the border of New Mexico and Mexico; a land of tamales and brisket burritos hot sause and Tex mex tacos and taquitos. It is a land where everything’s bigger
cars/roads/houses/driveways/eggs/mushrooms/grocery stores/turkeys
and so much more. It is so HUGE that I couldn’t get lost, even if I tried. But here I am,
stuck.
Sick.
Plunge it out
stock
stick
slop
slip
into oblivion into too many people in one small apartment where there’s no recycling so egg cartons go in the trash, silently breaking my heart, quietly breaking the food in my intestines down so I can stuff it up once again. Is this fun? Maybe.

Or maybe I’m still stuck in dreams of my old Mexican boss who is relentless and keeps on threatening to fire me so I keep on walking and sucking up to her and I’m exhausted and I’m sick of it!!!

Tucson Song

I’m in Arizona
and my throat is parched
at 6am and it’s dark as piss
looks after eating black sludge.
I’m cold and dry,
like a crusty old towel
gone to waste in this
desert wasteland where water
is scarce and saguaro cactuses
are plenty staring at me near
bus stations and hotel rooms and
shopping malls and parking lots.
Next to our room is a grapefruit tree

I thought that they were lemons
but alas they were much bigger
and rounder than anticipated.
I’m in Arizona, bone dry, sky dry,
fresh lips chapped and sleep deprived back aches and heart’s
hollow from all this driving and there’s more where that came from when we head to New Mexico.
I’m cold and dry and itchy but nice.
It’s a wonder I haven’t passed out from the weather change I guess my skin cracks and turns white like a pale ghost I guess soon I’ll become Mr. Data from the USS Enterprise Next Generation all white-out skin and yellow eyes all hollow hearted with no disguise.
He tried to love, but failed because he’s a robot. Am I a sentient sentimental being like him? Do I question the very folds of reality?
Am I even capable of fully loving another human being?

I’m in Arizona
and my throat is parched
and I’m wide awake
deciding whether to slip
into dreamland or subsume
to wither on the vine in my prime
of existence, or maybe it’s just the Southwest calling my broken dry-boned body out from the fire pit
where charcoal is my breakfast and dirt is my bedroom floor. Looking at how mountains shape the stark desert world around me now, their sharp angles playing tricks on my eyeholes, making me believe in a beloved space-time continuum
that scopes the outer world into my deserted drying heart as it become sun-dried and hard as leather. Will I ever be able to love again, like I used to? Or will I have to change my tactics, because whatever I’ve done in the past is not working for me now, in the present. All I do is jump from the devil to the labyrinth and back again. I’m in hell, my dry cold corpse peeling, shedding its paper-thin skin like how a zombie’s face looks when its skull pokes through
after all it’s living tissues have begun to disintegrate. I’m in another place so similar, with all this desert brush, yet so foreign because the earth is flat and wide, stretching for miles and miles it’s land so expansive that I know it would be a perfect spot for the USS Enterprise to land but if they did land, there would be no cover to protect them from attack. Like my heart, I would be exposed three-fold if I ever did jump before thinking; if I ever did leap without even knowing what I was doing.

I don’t know why I wrote this much, or even if this prose is worth performing in front of a live audience. Maybe it’s better to just land in the desert and forget trying to blend in. I am a saguaro trying to pass as simple brush, but alas my height, deep green color, and sharp spikes are too conspicuous to hide.
I might as well stand proud and tall, with strong arms stretched wide, welcoming whatever comes my way. Who knows…maybe it’s rain?

Look At Us

Look at us
All on our phones
Waiting for our friends
To arrive
Look at us
Hooked up
White screen lights
Blinding us
Biding is time
Individually
Alone but together
Strangers in a pact
Waiting for our food
Our food just came
But our friend is not here yet
And our throats are parched
Waiting for water
That can only come
When two people are sitting down at one table when two people are sharing in each other’s company
Look at us
Looks at us

Spit! Spat! Splat!

Been a while
since I’ve written
a little itty bitty ditty
talking ‘bout life an
all it’s fears swirling down the drain.
Been a while
since the mermaid lady
dressed in darkish green
sat and saw me here again.
Spit! Spat!
Been a while
since I’ve typed
nonchalantly
mini tiny teeny poems
on my phonie
like a stuffed beanie babie
bustin’ it’s seams
typing away
makin’ me stay
putin’ it’s pity till three.
Spit! Spat! Splat!
Been a while
since my gullet done drink
down it’s shakin’ hatch
a slimy chocolate pepperminty
flavor favor so minty
and fresh it could’a fooled me
in bein’ thrashed an trashed
but it’s not ‘cause p!nk is playin’
and I’m just nut butt sayin’
it’s been a while…

The Importance of Being Eager

Eager

the act of waiting for someone or something to happen soon

but the heart aches and quakes
to be rebutted or rebottled

and all is well if it decides to be.

Eagerness is not a miss
take or a strange break
from being alive.

It is a show of the nerves
to shut up and swerve
into the right kind of situation.

To be eager is to be aware
of every little hair and molecule
that’s riding through the air.

Even when you have no idea what could or should happen next…

The Magic of Mountaintops

Bliss
Is this what bliss feels like?

A sweet sort of satisfaction
sprinkled with humility and appreciation for what is

not for what will be.

Bliss is the moment you find yourself in when you don’t question
and just absorb and act
like yourself completely and fully

you sing
your heart out
reach out and touch an arm or a leg without the other person flinching
because they are comfortable enough around you that you don’t scare them you inspire them and enlighten them and then bliss comes around when you least expect it like floating on a cerebral ceremonial fluid cloud or a mountaintop where the snow meets the sky and you are finally able to let go
and cry.

You are the moon
and they are the light

always touching
reaching
discovering
holding
loving
creating a new form of friendship
unlike anything you’ve ever had before.

Your breasts are swelled up from hormones, emotions expanded; all bloody is your crotch but you feel alive as ever drifting on this rock of a planet

bliss
is this

is this
what bliss feels like?

Can you stand it?

Accepting what is;
enjoying the journey as life unfolds;
enjoying life as the journey unfolds.
growing bigger and better
ever so slowly
into a certain kind of magic.

The kind of magic that changes, but still stays the same.

The Magic of Mountaintops.

[Untitled]

Within the living voice

I have found

redemption.

Was it ever really dead

or just minimized retention?

Certainly Uncertainty

Whatever happens

happens.

Life is funny that way
giving out happiness like
strange party favors.

Did you really need it?
Or did happiness happen
when you least expected it.

You didn’t ask for this
You didn’t want this at all
but surprise surprise
here it is

not crippling loneliness
not scorching heat
not scant showiness
not bristling meat
not ledges and ground
not jumping but falling
not strings or keys
not waiting or stalling
not bulbous whale blubber
you carved to the bone
in order to make way for a
whole new body
where you feel more at home
you are that new body
you have always been that body
you have always been that person
deep deep inside
deep in the depths
somewhere lies your pride.

You are no longer aching and quaking to hide;
you are utterly now alright alright.

Life is funny that way
sometimes it’s full
sometimes it’s empty
sometimes it’s sadness
sometimes it’s angry
sometimes it’s loving
sometimes it’s hairy and smelly.

Whatever happens

happens

not being scared
but being brave
not being attached
not being saved
not acting like a child
by putting on a show
not knowing
absolutely
what you do and do not know

You didn’t ask for this
You didn’t want this at all
but surprise surprise
here it is

Wanderlust or Bust

Light is pouring in like
fireworks or flaming torque
and there’s this question
writhing inside so eager to hide

but the light keeps on seeping in
with a lingering grin such bravado and strength beyond eons
telling the future, as it may,
in all it’s comings and goings through cooking and musings.

Light is enormous and so gradual when emerging. So soothing in true form rising with the sun
and setting with the moon.

Light is the most beautiful
transformation.

Zen Living

Peaceful talks
enlighten like a lukewarm stew
warm and inviting.

Cooking in the kitchen
so smitten with spices.

Heartfelt Dabbles

Heart felt sincerity
at its core
is the sexiest things
since being humble
is highly overrated
in this world of ghosts.

Being kind and gracious
is an attractive attribute
so acute
in quiet moments
that it shakes the floorboards
when used properly.

Yonder Lies My Sadness/Integrative Love

Darkness swallows me whole
while dingy little bits of regret
cling to my aerated body like
lint and
it turns to stardust on my lapel
a strange smell of orange mist
singing through my fingers
trying to grasp
the cusp of reality
and how you appear in it.

You really are here,
aren’t you.

And it feels so comfortable
to be near you
touching, like starlight or stardust;
combusting and subtle
warm and real in every way.

I hide my voracity well.

Now I sift through heavy fog
on the cloudiest of days
where car lights can’t beam
trying to find my way home

so sudden, it seems
to last for longer
than it is

hidden

and you’re changing

for the better
becoming more you
than you’ve ever been
in your entire life.

And I’ll be here
right by your side
pushing away the darkness
like a velvet curtain parting
but it’s unclear if the show is just starting and so

should I take a seat?
(and wait)

or get up on stage?
(and perform)

Funny how slow life goes
if you let it play out on pace.

And it feels so wonderful to be near you, to hear you, to see your beautiful face

voice and vocal chords misplaced
we are opposites in every way
and yet

I won’t let the darkness take me
to a place I’ve been before

I’m too grown up for that kind of
devoured piece of sadness anymore so

explain to me why dynamite refuses to go off

even when the wick is lit
even when it’s ready

to be brightness

but do I really need darkness to tell me that I’m lost?

Because, honestly, I know exactly where I am

I’m in love.