9/20/11

Cut the Lines

It seems, that at the SEAMS - we're so eager for a change of life again, and I'm just, ..I just,…FEEL like it won't embark already. 

Not sure how to cut the lines. 

Cause when you're sailing a single little Laser by yourself - and the wind is finicky and too stale - you can lean yourself all the way to the side all you want. You can shake the boat and shout all you want. 
To all the "heart's content" you can make such a NOISE.
But, hah, -- you still won't be flying across that lake of waves… 

And all that metaphor doesn't even mean anything I guess…the temperatures are dropping, and the season's over. The HEAT, you may say is slipping away. 
But it's been...it's merely been begging for more instigation. 


So why don't you- my friend, and I, sit down and share some new stories. Why don't we breathe in cinnamon and exhale - and why don't you tell me something new I haven't lived. 
I'd like something I haven't lived to have - to love on it. 
Well, maybe not loved -
but in that amber, illuminated way - enjoy and be filled -
and have a NEW place to be haunted by... 

Since, oh.., all my haunts 
have been there too long. So long, ya know…I once begged: "give me all those dead things from lives past" …. but today they're just dead to me. 
They're just brittle to the touch - like the soon-to-be-browning leaves - 
they'll break when I TRY to GRASP them. 
They'll stain when I try to POCKET them. 
Pocket it. 
They keep telling me to… Change. Quit. Stay. Return. Leap. 

But I can't seem to know (just) which line to cut first. 
When I can't seem to want any particular direction. 

This endless, wistful staring up-
 at the should-be-blustery skies. 
This shouting at nothing. 

This successful loneliness so oddly played. 








Daily headphones: Indie Arie's "Heart of the Matter" 

9/11/11

Acting

I think I'm nearly done running away. Think it might be time to go back where I started.
(And so begins the long way back...) 

Back to where I went back already - where the inspirations came with every belt of star, chirp of late summer bugs, and leaves upon leaves on all the trees. 
Go back to where I fell. And where I fell in love. 
And out.
Was out in the cold -- but the cold sparkled, and it was a faith I prayed to in the nook between the holly trees.  

Cause I'm really going to hell already - breaking a once-good(always good?) heart. That killing of time before you change - and can't pretend anymore. Any longer. 
I'm waiting just a little longer to say the words my mind's repeating. The ones that just aren't true to have anymore. The ones that should have been discarded seasons ago with the boots with the worn-away heel. 
Forgive me maybe? - I fear I'm the romance that I've already had. 
I've already had - and so I already know - there's nothing like the earthquake there. 


While somewhere in the sweet soft night one man stops and whispers - 
And she answers --
 - with that remembrance of how it might hurt - 

That's how it goes when reasoning keeps losing.

When you can't just keep the distance and pretend - 
when you can't disguise yourself into....anything, 
then it's coming down, -- you're left with, oh... something else--
when you can't act, you're left with actually feeling. 
And feeling makes the confused night so long with someone not quite there.


8/30/11

Collision

I'm fighting every natural urge to run. 
Summon the wind to bluster on command - with the swoosh-flick of a hand - and cause a premature rustle .....that no one else really could notice. 
A flight for no - yet - reason. 

The lights are finally fixed in the hall. There's a new scent lingering in my memory to remember. Over-remember.
And I don't know if I've ever said anything truly captivating -
- especially when, especially when....oh hell. especially when we COLLIDE - 

Especially when I try so very hard to conjure up the potions that came like dripping sweat so often othertimes. 
Oh the pounding sweat of it. - we want too much of it. 
Or have we actually - instead - forgotten the real Want? 



A few nights ago...I was standing on a wide, uneasy rooftop - fighting the fear of the height (and other things a bit closer)- and seeing the expanse of the flat city in every twirling direction. 
.............The wind was roaring the change in season and gently moving my wool dress and strands of hair and metal things. 

.............But I was thinking all the while - staring at the white+yellow+green lights - at just how odd it was that miles away my hometown was battling the storm; that miles away could only exist as a memory standing there.

Everything was just a memory. 
Though it stood still. Though he grabbed my hand later. 

That there was something new, while there was something still so brutally bruised, - that there was something to smile about just as there was something to be so very sad about for quite a long while. 
There were all of these things waiting to collide then -  that've hit the ground (since). 


Just as there's so much still brewing out at sea. 

.............While I leave the TV on not to hear the lack of voices. And forget and remember a thousand times the great hum of that great city right outside and all around.
The great aimless - something?-less - expanse of where I am fumbling around -
for the desire to rise up again and breathe a heavy, smelly, steamy breath all upon it all so beautifully.