Friday, September 16, 2011


I am standing in a crowd of unfortunate people being jostled about by officious people in MD coats. the ground is sloped to an ending of an alley wherein metal gates stand firmly locked yet hint at an unpleasant ending. I am annoyed by the obsequious behaviors of people around, smelling fear upon them as they make attempts to make vapid banter with people in charge. A white coated petite woman of absurd beauty begins to pepper me with questions and look up at me in disdain, as if i am a hideous giantess while tapping her clipboard and waiting for my answers. I refuse her, she stamps her pretty heel and goes to get someone "who will make me cooperate." A different official begins to shout that I must keep my gaze firmly locked upon the gate, all heads within this startled herd snap in one direction to comply but I ignore them and as the yelling gets louder and the doctors begin to come at me through the crowd, i turn my gaze upon a tall tree whose leaves of golden color flutter and shift in sun, a dappling of radiant light that i find my mind projecting into such that when they attack my body, i am already standing elsewhere upon a corner watching people come happily walking out of a church. they are well dressed, lovely brown corduroy suits, sensible shoes and modest dresses. in their hands, well loved bibles, upon faces and tongue a well rehearsed and loved vernacular that encases their actual lives in a soporific space of safety and grace, they are polite and gracious to me, yet it is brief as they stream along past me, making plans, living their lives. i think to myself from a great inchoate space of constant terror and loneliness that has plagued me from birth that i could learn, i could be like that- i am smart, and what a payback to be comfortable in a group body. to know that i am loved in return for such a small price. i raise my hand and try to speak to them, shuffle in my shoes, timidly, and no sound comes forth - they pass along and it is vapor and the silence of what could have been is deafening until from some other street comes another procession of clanging drums, and foreign instruments, chanting the name of deities unbeknownst to me. a glorious freak show of brightly clothed noisy people with costumed animals, a woman of spanish origin, mantilla riding high above shiny coiled braids, bosom proud in a hand tatted white lace shirt, long skirts dragging flowers- a hungry child held aloft upon a mad woman's shoulders, the stunned gaze of a pure white lamb with a red stripe painted between its eyes. the cries, the tempo, the fervor begins to make me feel as if i could belong, the procession surges and heaves and a huge group of children flows around me who are wild eyed and chanting- for what it makes no difference, it is them calling for the death of all of their parents and for the love of a sacred icon all in the same hysterical rush of voice. they are covered in little bells and the noise is deafening. i am in their center, they are all my children. for one moment i am connected to something greater than me until in en explosion like the atom bomb my eyes are open.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

where have i been- a whole year lies fallow.

Saturday, January 02, 2010


Monday, December 28, 2009


Dignity walked into my Despair Bar, where I sat propped up unsteadily and slapped my face. Hard. Dignity pointed out in threatening gestures and flashes of my life projected on the barren wall behind my head, the trail of rejections I had greedily sought out. The Fetish Attachment's I attributed to tall and skinny men with bitter mouths and swollen cocks. Of what use thereby, my mangled days and upset nights, fervently mollifying, fussing about with the dustpan and broom, washing the same dish over and over, pecking away at a heroin filled door that would open just once in a great while to permeate my soul with that little bit of Him that perfected the addiction. And so I sat with this, watching myself, looking like a cheap whore in moving pictures until the walls began to tremble and with the shake of my matted mane, I did rain down from the sky a flash of brilliance to explode the dark and sticky barroom in shards and I went a'running out, to feel the sunshine on my skin. Alone.

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

and i would pay for destruction like some children pray for the death of their parents, for the silence and the scab of the knee to fall with a giant thud that would shake the little town free of the barley to render the fat and churn the fecundity to where gravity would flay the limbs apart and birds would giggle in glee.. i want to come home.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

i should not follow where your eyes used to lead me, yes, everybody lingers in the dust where they placed faith, based upon the deepest intuitive- the integral anatomist deep knowledge that they had come home, only to be proven wrong as is the endless route upon a faulted way since one can only feel what is right inside their own skin and be isolated there within for we are not of one another, rather just momentary glimpses into the random mirrors of others eyes, stuffing the holes, frantically grabbing at each other to soak up the endless mental bleeding- sinking skin into skin to feel attached, you were all i ever needed, just wanted to share your life as my small insect mind could only give all i knew yet the proverbial hips did not move right enough to fill the hole so we ran, running circles for ever and ever, so just try this, this endless black night, come home to your quiet mess, over and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over and some bright and nameless day- break the circle- tear it from your corpus callosum (WHITE MATTER) and throw it in the backyard to rot away and inevitably, no matter how it starts- rise up to steer clear of those that can see beyond the mirror, you know of that dark and miasmic side of endless night- there are a few of us that wear it like exquisite pulchritude- you are one, i am one, someday grace will find our other ones, be it graveside, sky side- all the same, serpent keeps it's tail distinguished from it's mouth but in the end, it's all the same straight, yet lachrymose flexible line towards the end.
i threw away the rage, no thought response needed, just a nameless and lugubrious affection ensues from a great distance- aimed straight and true..but in the end, dead wrong.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

whom but i? yet then again for the twinkling of an eye. for the grace therefore i go, strolling through the valley of death. and it is very, very silent there.