In lieu of forgetting.

All the things, he had them. And it was real, I know it was. It was real because I felt it and still feel it, so long gone. For so many months the only reality that I wanted was forgetting. And since there will never be forgetting there will have to be remembering.

Car

In such a short time everything that happened changed me so completely, in many ways I was weakened but also altered into something new, like a forging in fire. It wasn’t romantic as all that however. It has been made perfect by time and the mystery of the whys and how comes. But it wasn’t romantic. I wanted it to be and so it was. I guess I could have done that with anybody if the moon was just right and the perfect music played. If he had stuck perhaps the love thing would have faded, not perhaps, probably.

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That love thing running like a horse away from the stable into the field, feeling freedom and the dust churned up by pounding hoofs. And somehow I still need to remember, despite the hard stop, despite the wickedness of it all.

texas

texas

If I stand in the face of it and make it look at me while I look at it, maybe the pull will soften and I can imagine myself giving in to some one new.  Maybe but maybe not. Memories like a stampede and time like the slowest clouds moving in the hottest sky. Fuck it.

SONY DSC

SONY DSC

*All images are via tumblr, not mine, if you see an image that belongs to you please contact me and I will site you or remove it.  

Kingdom Come

roots

I often think about where you go when you leave. Are you forever walking away, leaving me with a memory of your face and the imprint of your back, descending eternally into the distance. Perhaps there is a town somewhere in city I have never heard of. And you live there. In my worries you are in a box and it is dark, time moves but you don’t. When I let myself wonder, the weight presses my shoulders forward and my gut in on itself. Sometimes there isn’t the strength to push back and the ideas rush at me with the down pour staccato of my life in rewind. The woods and the boy with the bow and arrow aiming with the kill shot. The best friend growing pale and cold beside the ocean, alone. The dad, deeply drunk, and holes in the walls. Dead black boys and city riots, hearts on fire with hate. Men in desert fabric holding dull weapons, swinging at necks in the name of god. When I close my eyes I see these things.

elehant

I think about a brother, I try to stop the clock in my mind and build a stillness. But I cannot. And these things stack. These notches busted into me with the ax of experience. Even from the vantage point of time and new chapters I still cannot figure out where you go when you leave. You are in the heart of another girl. You are in your apartment watching tv, alone. You are dead. You are looting, fighting, giving up, giving in. You are disintegrating in the dust. Maybe it doesn’t really matter. Gone can mean so many different things but still be the same thing.

distance

Knowing that the grand design of life has avenues beyond what I can see. Straight lines away from the unknown and into a deeper understanding of what we are here for. Things that I won’t see until I round a corner and step onto the gravel of that new day…this possibility puts some guts back into my body. And for the first time in this life, I find myself hoping that there is a God. And that there is someone bigger than me who wants goodness for us.

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Since I do not know where you are I will imagine this. Trees for miles that end at a bottomless sea. Animals to ride, animals to eat. Forgiveness and charity for you, from you. Friendships so deep that you will never know the end. Love so passionate, a heart blue with flames. You will never be afraid and in your mind will be all of the knowledge that we seek so tirelessly. And you will look at us with patient eyes because I may not know where you are, but you know exactly where I am.

handhorse

*All images are via tumblr, not mine, if you see an image that belongs to you please contact me and I will site you or remove it.  

These Dreams

pencil

Spare a little candle
Save some light for me
figures up ahead
Moving in the trees
White skin in linen
Perfume on my wrist
And the full moon that hangs over
these dreams in the mist

samari
Darkness on the edge
Shadows where I stand
I search for the time
On a watch with no hands
I want to see you clearly
Come closer than this
But all I remember
Are the dreams in the mist

backarch
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away
hatman
Is it cloak ‘n dagger
Could it be spring or fall
I walk without a cut
Through a stained glass wall
Weaker in my eyesight
The candle in my grip
And words that have no form
Are falling from my lips
hand
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away
leterbuck
There’s something out there
I can’t resist
I need to hide away from the pain
There’s something out there
I can’t resist
The sweetest song is silence
That I’ve ever heard
Funny how your feet
In dreams never touch the earth
In a wood full of princes

nomads
Freedom is a kiss
But the prince hides his face
From dreams in the mist

longroad

These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away
3
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away

eternallove

Let It Burn.

cuffs

In my bed, a bed that never saw your body, never drank our sweat, or felt you rise at dawn.  In my bed a fire lit.  It started in my belly and stayed there.  It burnt my guts.  It took my heart.  Nightmares, tears, panic, all of the things that came from your disappearance, fuel.  All of it, fuel.  I burned until the only thing left was ash.

hair

The odd thing about nothingness is that it never truly is nothingness.  Buried within is always more.  More pain.  More hope.  More.  While the fire emptied me out, some strange well filled me.  I wonder about it now.  I’m a pile of ash and still I breath.

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That bed, the furnace with my dreams of love a smoldering collection of wood and smoke warming every inch of my life.  I seek sleep in it now and it feels like a war.  A thing that is winning and losing, together.   I lay in it, tossing,turning, allowing myself to think of you, willing myself to forget.  But I never truly want to forget.  We can paint over it, we can turn it away when it begs to crawl between the sheets, we can put a million miles between this day and that,  but the burnt earth will never forget.  The scars of this fire will be seen by every man and woman that passes through our scorched worlds.

twowomen

A friend told me today that he a had moment in life where he opened his eyes to a room filled with flames.  In his left hand was a match, in the right, a gas can.  In that moment you can do only one thing.  Let the mother fucker burn.  All of it, down to the ground.  You with it.  We hold onto some moments with a religious fever.   And to watch them burn is a baptism.  Sacrosanct reckoning.

hatboob

A dunk in the river, a dab of holy water, none of it compares to the righteousness of fire.  And so I am grateful.  I am reverent of this bed that now holds the bones of a new woman.  To me it is a nest.  And I am a phoenix.  The pillows are seeds and the blankets are feathers.  And I will be a phoenix.  I will be hot to the touch.  My hurt will be the wings that keep my soul open, wings spread wide, despite fear, despite the weakness of this new skin.

marylin

It is easy to look back at lost love and regret, hate.  I will never do that.  In my chest is a small, wood cabin that exists only for that love.  It is where I keep forgiveness, respect, and true love.  As my body ages, this house will not.  There is a bow with arrows on the wall, a red hot stove, and a bed with sheets that are always turnt down, waiting.  It is fire resistant.  All great things are both fed by heat and strong enough to withstand the match.

chopwoods

This one’s for you Gyspy.

This is what I think when I think of love.

This is what I thought of when I thought of love.

ruebanireland1

As a child it was a bird that landed in the window and flew away when I reached out to touch it.  It never stayed long.  I learned that to look at it was to scare it away.  To move towards it was to force it into flight.

I taught myself to view it from the corner of my eye.  And we lived in harmony this way.  And when I tired of that I would rush at it, flapping my arms, daring it to leave.  The fear of something is almost always worse than it actually occurring.  And sometimes this was true.  Is true.

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If my windowsill felt empty, it was only because I couldn’t stop looking at it.  Even in the dark I knew that there was nothing there.   And that space was so big and me so small.

When I think of love now I think of warmth like tropic salt water.  I think of immersing myself under the waves and feeling calm within a thundering wash.  I long for love to be the harbor, even though I am the storm.  I can’t be protected from the weather that is inside of me.  And in this place lives a tiny child who runs at the bird to scare it away and dies as she watches it soar.  A thing for others but not for her.

This is what I do when I let it all go.

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I know that out there in that vast space around me is a love that stays.  A love that forgives, forgets, and saves.  I know that out there I will find a love that holds me close and leads me towards my fears, not away.  That love will shine a light on my demons and expose them as dust bunnies and shadows.  And in return I promise love that I will always keep the light on.  The door will always stay wide to the wind.  And though I will never be whole, I will always be ready to try.

This is what I say to love when in sits in the windowsill, wings spread.

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I am sorry.  I never meant to chase you away.  I was taught that when I reached for you that you would leave.  And because of that I sat still, grew scared, and then lunged.  Thinking maybe this would be the time I could hold you in my arms.  I was wrong.  I need you know to know that your beauty has forever changed me and I will stare at my window and see your shape and hear your sound for as long as I live.  In my heart I know how lucky I am to have been so close to you and I am grateful beyond words.  I believe in you and admire your flight; it felt so wonderful to see the world from your perch, even if only for a moment.  You taught me to be brave and true.  You taught me that love is not something you can hold.  It is something that holds you, flies when it likes, and visits you when you least expect it.

This is what I think of when I think of love.

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I long for the day when I can sit in the same room with love and it stays.  It hears me cry and rage, and it stays.  It says to me that I will never leave you; I will never give you a minute of loneliness.  I will be by your side no matter how scared you get.  I don’t need to fly away because I am yours and you need me.  You are mine and I need you.

This is what I think of when I think of love.

Jerome Witkin-Native American-1974

Be easy, baby.

Be easy, baby.  We have all the time in the world.  There will be days to thunder.  There will be nights to rage.  We will have demons to slay and love to make.  Not today.  Today is for reverence and alters.  Today is for starting from scratch, today we rewrite the wrongs and forgive ourselves for everything.  All accounts are settled.  And when this day ends, as it inevitably does, all memory is crystal, perfect and pure.  Time is a gift and I give it to you.

stampede

Be easy baby, you are finally home.  From dirt and wood we will build a place where happiness will live, the sweetest dreams moving from sleep to reality.  A garden of food, an orchard of green.  Rolling salt water to the west, forests of moss and game to the east.  This land will be sanctuary to family, friends, souls in search of rest.  Our door always open to remind us that good comes in and evil runs out.  This land will be fortress against the enemy, a dragon in the mote, archers at the ready.  You are home and I am standing on the stoop watching you walk in.

wolfcabin

Be easy baby, this love is the kind that stays.  This love greets you at the door, jumps in your arms.  It walks beside you in the light and in front of you in battle.  Holds you up when you are too weary to keep it all going.  My love erects a thousand little monuments and leaves them all over the world so that you never feel alone.  What came before was only a stone for stepping.  What lived before was the man on a journey only he could undertake.  This is the love that stays, even when the fear lays you low.  Even when the only feet on the earth are yours.

twoonabike

Be easy, baby.  Be easy.  There will be a million fights in this life and only one true victory.  Love.  The fire in the hearth.  The gravel road that leads home.  The pillow, the blanket, the body curled with yours.  The moon on the water.   The music that weaves in and out of a perfect story.  Love.  It’s just that easy.

bull

The Tethered Heart

tiger

Why is it important for me to project the tiny light of my mind out into your life?  It would be far easier to mark up my journal with misspelled ink stain and blue verbage .  I would not feel constantly compelled to check my stats or to hope for your love.   But if I didn’t do this, didn’t reach digital fingers out towards you, there would be no way for us to talk on this level.  I wouldn’t be able to look back on myself with the clarity that only time and distance provides.  And most importantly,  there would be no spy glass over my heart.  And I need that.  I need to look in.  I need you to look in.tumblr_mliegeh3901qaiyl9o1_500

It is common to find me standing on the podium of untethered selfishness.  I write this in reference to my stance on family.  For many reasons, some relevant, most imagined, I have always functioned like a person with no natural family.   In my mind there is no blood waiting to catch my fall.  So I had better not fall.  The ledge, however thrilling, is just too dangerous for me.  In the past I have lept, landing firmly on safe ground or terribly, on my back, on a granite slap.   There is nothing unique about my struggle.  I want love.  Sometimes I get it, sometimes I don’t.  As I age the wanting becomes just as interesting as the getting/not getting.  What used to tear me up now brings a strange kind of knowledge.  You will hear the same silly saying whenever love fails.  “They are doing the best they can.”  I have said this myself.  I don’t believe it.  It makes literally no sense.  Doing the best you can means not intentionally damaging someone.  It means being fair and using your heart, not your ego to dictate your actions.  The wisdom I earn from the giving and receiving of pain is this…we are only as good as the love we give.  And if ones heart is eroded with regret and fear, the ability to be bigger than your demons is nearly and tragically impossible.  Now, stay with me here, I have a point, I promise.

bound

I held a baby.  The child of my soul sister.  This woman has been a part of every great moment in my life.  If not physically, then mentally.  She has broken my heart and healed every wound that life has seen fit to give me.  When we fight I don’t sleep.  No matter how many years flow between us we remain insanely too real with each other.  There is no artifice.  And she made a baby.  Being so far away made me think that this would be like any other baby.  Cute, fussy, and thank god I don’t have one.  And then someone shoots an arrow through your heart.  And you are made inhuman with a love so all consuming that there is no fire hot enough to burn it out of you.  Your cells meld together to become one giant heart beat that threatens to crush every iota of hate and loneliness in your soul.  And you let them, you watch in amazement as they roust the devils from your head and send them screaming out the back door.  I am forever altered by this.  I, thus far, have known no greater love.

The Red Balloon by Albert Lamorisse-1956

Rendered blind and dumb by love is a new feeling.  Wording my way around hurt and hope is my specialty.  I can strike the tallest of men down with my mouth.  I can talk myself into and out of anything.  I can lie.  And I do.  I told myself that I didn’t need a family, at least not in the commonly known sense.  I erected a stone wall around the idea of home and left it by the sea.  I only visit when I require pain.  And yet if finds me here, now.  Unbeknownst to me a family was building itself in my life.  Despite my better efforts, home came to me.   Just like the surprise I felt at meeting and instantly loving this little creature, I am shocked by how beautifully my house has designed itself.

mfer

And now I have the greatest knowledge of all.  Nothing matters in this life aside from being front and center to all of the things that come your way.  The shit, the joy, the love, the pain, they all bind us to the dream of who we hope to be.  The demons guide us just as fundamentally as the angels do.  I hope to be the bearer of love, the drinker of wine, the writer of words, the dancer with the lightest of feet, and the keeper of this love so absolute that time or distance will never come close to touching it.  There is nothing perfect about how we came to be and I forgive myself for thinking it should have been.  Welcome to the world Oliver and welcome back Josi.

run

No Church In The Wild

 

jay

Don’t mess or test your highness
Unless you just address with best finesse
And bless the paragraph I manifest

bigdaddyWhose world is this?

nas

It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine.

dre

Its crazy to see people be what society wants them to be, but not me, RUTHLESS.

bdp

This is just one style, one out of many.  Like a piggy bank, this is one penny.

slickrick

They did the job, the money came with ease.  But one couldn’t stop, it’s like he had a disease.

boomboxNow question is every nigga with dreads for the cause?  Is every nigga with golds for the fall?

Outkast+50_main

Here comes a flava in your ear. Time for a new flava in your ear.

leonardo

Fuck the world, don’t ask me for shit.  Everything you get you gotta work hard for it.



Graceland

She said losing love is like a window in your heart.  Everybody sees you’re blown apart.  Everyone sees the wind blow. 

blue-mosque

Hearing a beloved song from the past is like a surprise visit from a dear old friend.  And if that friend were carrying a suitcase filled with dusty souvenirs and decrepit childhood memories….I would curl up at her feet, slowly open the case and look inside.

The Red Balloon by Albert Lamorisse-1956iii2

I am thinking of the new year.  We all want to hit the reset button, start fresh, start clean.  I have to be a bit different about this one, however.  If I waited until January to reboot, there would be no me to work from.  Everyday has to be that new day.

treehouse

There have been so many moments lately where I am so aware of my/our/your loneliness.  How badly we want to connect.  How desperately hard it is to do so.  We just want to be seen and chosen by the person who will fill the crevices in our hearts.  My friend put it perfectly when she said, ‘all I want is for someone to say, you, I want you.’  I see so many empty souls robbing the hope from those who dare to place themselves in the path of love.  If you happen upon me, thumb out, on the lonely highway towards love, don’t pullover unless there’s room for two.  These hyenas disguised as Lyons are ruining all the fun.  Just as I have often wished that peoples insides matched their outsides, I long for honesty in this pursuit of love.

whitedress

 

And if you offer to me the truth, I will offer to you the vastness of my heart.  Nothing less.

beercan

 

On my walk to the post office today I heard “Graceland” by Paul Simon.  A door in my mind flew open and all of the worlds weather rushed in.  I felt the chill of time gone by.  I was burnt by the heat of teenage silliness.  I was lulled to sleep by the quiet blues of rainy days, so many.

Maggie Rizer in Jean Paul Gaultier Paris Couture Bride by Craig McDean-Vogue-October-2002

 

And my traveling companions, Are ghosts and empty sockets, I’m looking at ghosts and empties, But I’ve reason to believe, We all will be received, In Graceland

Color Me

red2

Yesterday was the day of red.  Blood.  Anger.  Eyes veiled with crimson.  Red is the color of mortal crime.  Once the blood runs the halls, there is no clean.  Ever again.

Sylwia Makris

If my heart is blackened and I seem antique, know that under the charred flesh and onyx eyes is new flesh.  The skin saves hope from the careless hands of fire.  Behind the iron is the only woman who knows how to love a king.

orange

You fill me up.  From the bottom to the top.  The orange earth pushes between our toes and we walk together like this.  Two children staying one step ahead of time.

purple_pink

I never thought the day could come when the rosy pink of my youth would turn to dust and blind me.  Fear has aged the blush, turning my heart a frightening purple.

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Chalked hands tracing white walls.  Winter, barren hours, and endless miles lay ahead like a marble tundra.  There is beauty in this white world.  Just like there is beauty in the empty rooms we leave behind right before the last door is shut.

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With out white, black has no outline.  With out black, white is just a multiplication of what has never been done.

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The blue in your eyes reminds me of the ocean I grew up on.  White crested, green blue waves, unruly and uninviting.  There was this unspoken truth there that we all acknowledged.  Most of those who ventured into those ice waters would not be coming home.

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As a child I would often bed in the moss and loam of our pacific forests.  The smell was so old and so fresh all at once.  I always hoped that that would be the day that a fairy would decide to show itself to me.  I suppose that I still feel this way.  Oregon green is the color of my imagination.

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Gold.  The warmest of metals.  The prize.