Monday, December 12, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Grey clouds sweep over the Arno
I think this paper will show communication is a comfortable illusion
Material things, like diamond rings,
My stomach is empty but my heart is full
And we never-
You leave me messages in the shape of sounds and
the end is near, we’re getting close…
I am content.
I’d like to grow old with
You- are the color I see in darkness
Beautiful- thoughts twist and undulate like
Waves- and their silver shade on the shade
And- by bus or train, or even in the
Rain- washes the past, leaving me renewed
Breath, so sweet, I breathe you
Deep, blue of a sunless sea during a
Storm, clouds chase us away
When, suddenly I’m not alone
The building that’s facing me is falling
Where I’m stuck
In my forehead
Is magenta colored walls.
I want to sit with you in the light of
Refracts the light I emanate.
And I’m a desperate
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
There’s a full moon rising over Firenze
My rose quarts in the window reflects a tiny white light.
I like to think that the moon is reflecting back the shine of the rose quartz too.
A small pink glow to illuminate her third eye.
If I could sit down to tea with the moon;
I imagine we would talk about long distance relationships.
We’d complain about being on opposite sides of the world from our counterpart.
She’d remind me that even though they can not be in the same sky at the same time,
That her light would not shine the way it does with out the existence of the sun.
Shining- on his own- where ever he may be.
She would remind me that it’s natural to ebb and flow, to wax and wane (each of us fulfilling our personal duties)
She would say:
“But isn’t it beautiful how connected we are? One would not function right with out the other!”
We would talk about how we orbit one another.
The moon and I,
Our loves and us.
I would offer her some more tea
Looking into a cup of emptiness
And she would say:
“Tonight I am full,
no need for excess.”
Before she would make room in the sky for the sun to rise,
She would remind me to harvest all that has been cultivating within me.
She would tell me not to worry
for she will return the next night
to sit and talk to me
over some rose quarts
and a cup of tea.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
"True Sexuality demands the destruction of the ego.
The loss of oneself in the other."-Sabina Spielrein
After a particularly intense orgasm I was thinking about how at the peek of pleasure I had the thought that I just wanted to die. Now, obviously this wasn’t a morbid thought, no sort of suicidal this is so bad I just want it all to end type of thought. There was something in me that at that moment would have been utterly content in exploding, or spontaneously combusting, as I felt I might. It reminded me of an acid trip, how at the peek you are laughing so constantly and so hard that the experience just doesn’t seem like it will ever end. Maybe you will be on acid for the rest of your life and that idea sounds so awful but only because you feel so good. It’s the same thing. Its so good, that its too good and if it doesn’t end soon you are going to die, or for god sake you better.
Then I found out in many languages and cultures the word for orgasm actually means Little Death. Go figure, I thought this was an original idea.