The Weak of wanting #4

I do not care for time.
I care only for forever.
If there is a forever
and nothing is forever
than there is nothing
than nothing is the only infinite.

Thank God.
We have Nothing to worry about.

The Weak of wanting #3

Because I am not dead:

Every day I will sing.
If my voice is shy,
I will write.
If my pen has no ink,
I will dance.
Every day I will dance.
If nothing moves me
or if I am too dizzy,
I will make a picture.
If I have no canvas, no paints, or no brushes,
I will go outside.
Everyday I will go outside.
I will make a bouquet of wild flowers.
I will work in the garden.
I will sit.
I will breath.
I will bake bread.
I will read.

Because I am not dead.
I will sing.

The Weak of wanting #2

I bought myself an orchid today
But I have not sat… still
And I miss my mister… still
I must remember to smile at mirror.
Money is numbers invented and pretended.
Let’s take a boat to a place with no name.

The Weak of wanting #1

(From a dream, someone reads this to me)

Death to the Father.
Death to fear.
Write “Heart”
Heart, Heart,
Heart, Heart,
Heart, Heart, Heart,
five times,
and a list to commit.

The Weak of wanting

A weak of wanting.
Of searching under every inch of magazine and wood floor studio and itchy skin.
Of separation from skin – from body touching crevice and round of body.
For Muse. For Muse.
I let the dreams tell me.
I cannot hunt her down with a gun and a net – I cannot cage her with such anger.
I must lay down.
I must, with heavy drunken eyes give over to the letters in lanterns, like moths and night.

Lullaby

Dear nervous voices
Dear checkered will
Dear shaking envy
Dear hunger
Dear hunger
Dear hunger
Dear Love, I have no other words for you than those I dare not utter
Dear Pride – you speak so soundly for me – so loudly and with such desperation
That dear… my dear famished desire
– you starving ghost, haunting walls of ribs and ceiling of brain

I wish only to hold you all, wrap you softly in my very tissue
And sing to you the songs my mother sang to me…

But I cannot, for the life, remember the words

But I cannot
For the life
Remember the words

When We Drink Bottles of Wine by Ourselves....

I am not a God
I am not a Hafiz
I am not a Rumi
I am not a brilliant mind
But I have the hands of a man who has spent his life in the stock yards of old novels
And I have the body of an eight year old boy.
I have the tongue of an incompetent donkey -
And the will of a fly in a garbage pile

The fact is I can do nothing at all.

Everyone has already said everything that can ever be said
So why in the world would a girl like me try
to do something like have an idea.
Might as well sit here and drink myself stupid
– marry me away to another rich fool.

couples counseling

today my therapist told me to have my body tell my brain what it is she wants from the other.
I'll skip the gritty details, but they had a good long dialogue.
brain committed to let body dance whenever and wherever she felt the impulse to do so.
It was quite a break through for the two of them.

Let Go.

whispers march their manipulative ways into my ears and down further through and into my throat where I have no say - and probably never have. If I'm speaking, please don't listen - I am being held captive by the weight of a brain that won't let go.

"You won't like me when I'm happy

so please, God, don't make me happy."

Bang Bang

With irony and American desperation I strive to emancipate myself from the most resilient of plagues: ego/self obsession/ Narcissus himself.

New Year's Resolution = A vow to change everything with the knowledge that I have not the power to do so.