walk in the room. 3 parts.

Part 1.

and you know i have something to prove

when i walk in the room like i want you to see how i move

and making moves is left up to you and the way we create these moments is precious

and we have no idea how to make it work until we start to try and there is no reason

to abandon hope-- we must always keep hope alive, in every area of our lives

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Part 2.

I love to love. she thinks. she pauses, considering speaking,
she leaves space open.

he is quiet, he pauses, considering speaking,
the waiting is killing her
dying, she waits a bit more
what, oh what is she really expecting?

oh yes, he has been nothing if not honest

Part 3.---------------------------------------------------------------------


"Start over, gently. " the thought is almost a gravitational singularity. How is that possible?

She hums a quiet tune. she whispers. she wills herself into a more comfortable position, feeling so many things all at once. she attempts to distinguish one feeling from another but they bleed together and she stares at each color around her in the threads of the pillows and blankets, the patterns of the sheets on her mattress, the patterns in the hardwood floor beneath her mattress and bed, she stares at the colors and patterns and makes a deal with herself, that each emotion and perception will become as clear as all that she can see.

What we see starts with what it is front of us, the light, the mechanism of our physical vision keeps us aligned with what we want to perceive. If her mind strays from the desired view of the object then she creates a whole new perception of what she wants to see. the power from that desire over rides what is really there so she cannot perceive what may be the one most concentrated reality. One dose of that could make her almost high just due to her already heightened sense of what it means to be a part of reality. This hits at different moments, walking down the path touching the branches as she wanders by noticing the blossoms, hearing the question answer call and response of the songbirds.

Each day she gets stronger until she flashes back to the fetal position feeling so much she cannot sort through what is most real most important and what she should do about all the problems that are so impossible but so hard to believe in at times because she creates such distance between what she chooses to take in and what is actually there. love pulses in her veins and that much she knows and yet she can control how much this love is expressed and shown, revealed to those whose gazes penetrate her very being, convinced she is made of the very essence and fabric of truth, love, kindness, affection, hope.

She is so blessed with this ability to convey these precious ingredients that make up her composition, that make up her conceivable form. the form she takes is one that she makes, but the mystery behind that creation remains elusive to those whose gazes penetrate her very being and she finds the blessings and good fortune apparent in these turn of events, she finds the indicators of very good luck that she can perceive in her current paradigm and she knows that without this kind of knowledge she would just have to go find more somehow to justify her existence. She cannot justify her existence easily the way she saw some people do when she moved through the world as though they could just accept outer appearances.

from January 1996-- happy that way

slick pavement underfoot
makes for risky walking
and dangerous drives
the moon filters thin winter light
through naked branches
sub zero beauty
when I brave the cold
I think of those who live or die in it
when I see my breath
exhale into a grey stream
I shiver at the thought of never
being in your arms again
I blow into my cupped palms
to thaw my face
snow falls
resembling us
papery thin and temporary
ignorant of what it all means
and happy that way
take me away
from anymore unnecessary knowledge
protect me from the bitter temperatures
of loneliness
all the shades of solitude reflected
in breath we can see
they mingle into one stream
and I am comforted half way
the rest uncovered might
freeze from exposure