Two

24 Apr

Swollen and throbbing

Calloused and powerful

Pretty and girly

A kid’s sized length 

Day by day

Night by night

The two of you

Firmly rooted under me

A Graceful force–

A movement full

Teaching me that size doesn’t matter at all

that pain, sorrow, delight and all

 it’s all just temporary, fleeting is all

Grateful for all the lessons; I lean 

Lean into two 

The power of two

Juncture Passing

23 Apr

525,948 minutes
Beating, pulsing through my veins
That first second like the first drop of a rollercoaster

Shooting by
Day
By
Day

day one opens:
An excited infant
Taking that first step
Believing the first step will be the hardest

until—
standing at the end
Climbing out of the minutes
still clinging to it all

Will I? Won’t i?
Should I? Shouldn’t I?
Right
Wrong

I stand

—in the middle—

Minutes whizzing by
Days booming like the bass of a familiar song

Is desire enough?
Yearnings,
longings
Filling my insides
Pushing against my ribcage
Pulsating

I sit
—on my rock

Waiting

Watching

Thinking

Feeling

A single minute bottled

seal unbroken.

Obelisk

21 Apr

Guest Post:

This tower that towers
Over me. Us.
Black shadow like a sun dial that
tracks our steps from C street.
This grass that burns emerald,
this sky like a lake,
this feeling like leaving.

36491 bricks sealed together.
555 feet.
A decade of remember-when.
Kites on strings –
daredevils through the sky – and our
fingers stiff like ice.
The view from the summit,
the triangular point you can
Always see.

This is a last
that hits between the chilly
gust of yellow pollen wind.
Standing in the middle of it all –
white marble columns,
glinting metal chairs light with
centuries of bone.

This tower that towers
Over me. Us.

Metropolis

21 Apr Just a little bit of magic!
imagine
                            New York,
the racy,
                            adventurous city
at night,
                                                               the satisfaction
                    the constant flicker
         of men
               and women
       and machines.
Fifth Avenue
                                                 throbbing taxi-cabs,
                                                                                    the crowd
                                      I’m enchanted.
A metropolitan twilight
Then
        like
             glass
                  slowly
                            cracking,
                                                                                                      a haunting loneliness
sometimes settles
                                                    it’s final, at the end.
crave:
                          awaiting the bus
                                        its energy
                                                 brief as it may be
I yearn–
                                                                        longing for the–
                                                                                                            roaring;
                                                                        a glistening sash tightly binding me
                                                                                          forever attached
Arrive:
inside
a 600
square foot
studio
dark
and
low.

4PM Release

19 Apr

the bouquet of tiny, firm tendrils

massage my jaw

melting the makeup down the drain

I stand holding my breath

feeling the gentle pressure on my eyes

waves of fear cleansed away

spirals of frustrations

form a puddle around my feet

the unachievable to-do list

the one that won’t ever end

the one that keeps

going

and going

and going–

flushed.

I turn smiling

and turn it from warm to hot,

hot spirals of silver

soften the sinews

washing it all way

giving me permission to draw the curtain

and walk away–

free

light

calm.

After

19 Apr

After the cold, it gets warm.

After the dark, comes light.

After the thunder, a bright clear day.

After the mistake, the learning.

After the fight, love and forgiveness.

After the climb, the desent.

After the jump, a landing.

It’s true, it’s true

After it all,

Comes more

More learning

More light

More dark

More rain

More sun

A cycle 

The cycle

My cycle.

Trumpet meet Human

16 Apr
the trumpet sounds--high 
like a solo bird crossing the sky
the notes float out arching in the air
urging you to move
heads slowly turn 
instrument acknowledging listener
out of soft clouds
they rise
slow moving at first
then fast pounding the earth with rhythmic
Jazz squares
slow, fast
slow, fast
marking it
making music with their limbs
-improvisational meeting 
blending,
learning.
each solo 
a story 
a truth
an instance
dancer and musician
the intuitive dialogue.
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