Tag: Lines

I feel the realness of an earth unfolding

Steam rises into bright white sky

And sweat beads and drips down my back –

off my nose.

The hands stuck, sinking

Getting closer to the moist dust of the universe

The muck of the mess we’ve left behind.

But, with eyes closed,

I can only see your caring face.

Shin deep you pull me up

and out of soggy life’s bottom

Hands freed, I hold you

touching neck and waist

beads of steam reflect off your wild hair

wind blows away and away and away

And together with wishes

Hoping for an end of the epoch of mud

the clouds float over uncaring.

There may be rain at some point,

smiling. stained. breathing.

And wondered where the rats,

the ones with antenna in their ears,

I wondered where the rats were.

Then walk on down to Pepe’s Opera,

mesmerized by the burning idols,

and I jumped through the fire –

Jumped through the wall of fire.

And then stood on the counter

staring at the orphaned mountain,

burning light night sky,

flames dancing through trees.

Motions past and touches present

Hand firmly on your hip

feeling the dreams

of gas cans and siphon hoses.

Tasting bitterness and heat,

remembering your hair,

touching my cheek,

and I touched your hair.

Thinking again of slices

shifting in where rats take calls

and only finding rattled bones

once overgrown by kudzu.

i had a dream this morning

a mermaid swam to me out of sunrise colors

and caressed my body

she kissed my lips

delicate like a light sea breeze

a string of blue clouds fell across my eyes

and the mermaid swam away

only to come back

more embraces and more kisses

her hands pressed and squeezed

her nose smelled

remembering my scent

the curves of my body

i rolled over into floating white sheeted pools

and like the sunrise colors

the wavy haired vision

disappeared in the waking morning

…wandering paths

over concrete, past wood

crossing asphalt

marked with paint, foot prints, spit, and history

faded and worn

renewed and re-crossed

steps where love was found

ran into

lost and sworn away from

ghosts pass by

voices for an infinite layer

upon layer

where tongues touched

eyes met

hands squeezed

buses hum

cars shush

and yells vibrate across the wires

of this city

forever moving forward

getting torn up

rebuilt

pushed out

and hung to dry…..

lights twinkle

as sleep overcomes the majority

and the football game is fading

into fog

of last season

the sidewalks tell stories –

it is written for the ages!

As Easter Sunday winds down, I find myself browsing other sites in order to figure out what to do for today’s entry. I briefly contemplated throwing a photo up on here and calling it a day. Yet, alas, nothing is sticking at the top of my internal feed enough to go “yes, that’s what I’ll put on today’s blog. I really don’t want to talk about politics. I don’t even want to strain my brain enough to write a journalistic type of entry. Yesterday’s entry was fun as I recounted the day’s activities. Kind of like a real old fashioned journal entry.

Easter Sunday: Went to 4B and met ED and his parents. They had 7 more people for the tour. We had a great time on the walk and ended short at 22nd St. Slice of pie at Escape from NY and off to CELL to meet S and help him get spraying on his mural. AG and B were at CELL and we met up at Dolores to be on the fringe and end of Hunky Jesus. Ran into C and MC and some guys from the Southeastern USA I know. Met up with I and we walked to Mission Bowling Works to have a drink. Overpriced food but nice Andrew Scholtz painting at the end of the lanes. No desire to bowl and feel hip retro. Up to Divis and ate Thai. Ran into M from MG and surprised to see him back in SF. Walked to gas station and had a fresh Krispie Kreme. Then home to more Hunger Games and chill after two days of lots of walking.

Yeah…. I like the journal entries. Maybe I’ll feel more wordy soon. For now…. eat chocolate for good times…. Continue reading “Alas… To Blog”

Eyes open, body moving

Sky tucked under white blanket.

Pattering rain breaks quiet.

Too wet for the hens to play!

in my heart, i see a future where borders will turn into mist, cultures will mix like pigment, and you and I will laugh about the absurd history of nations while sipping black tea in a cafe

The economy of words makes one a master of understatement.