"Toy people make their way through today, unhurried by Time"

Note:
Here is my attempt to archive some of the writing I did in 1996, I was 15 and then 16 that year. I include some of these pieces because if they resonate with a young person or if you are older and they strike a chord, or if you want to share them with anyone for any reason, I will be grateful for that.

made such a mess of this

(dedicated to the muse)

I feel way too exposed, an open blossom
raw and vulnerable
so frantically young
the smoke went through my eyes
impairing vision, judgment
unlawfully allowed by me
entered through my skin
in the veins
takes hold of my bloodstream

I am now writing my cause of death
my autopsy performed while alive
secretly
but you wouldn't know it
it is in my body
more than that it is in all that I am
I become the words I am writing
ink to paper I am born once more
living through the motions
it takes, whatever it takes
so I wonder about the force from
this empty source
but what does any of this matter to you?
If you turn away, I could disappear forever
what if  I already have?

I want to try somehow
a puzzle piece into the wrong space
I fit so snug and out of place
still I am one who can mold the solid,
make shapes from thin air
move the immoveable
and your eyes spread their seething disapproval
I inch closer
to away from you
we are from different worlds
I grow more certain
the final curtain
will fall
before we go any further
all seems a bit forced, I could say
but it might hurt, so I won't
you could leave now, you would
but you don't
Intermission has lasted far too long
we are getting restless
I know I have made such a mess of this


Decision Weather

(dedicated to Maja and Morgan)

she lights upon edges, anywhere high up
with a dove's beauty in her movements
stealing hearts for food
scavenger ravishing mad
scared
it is raining
when she forgets to murder her father
she haunts doorways, anywhere cold
cloud hanging above her head
storms incessant
never dry, always high
straw hands
bend to break
fingers like ice
she melts and disappears
filling cracks swimming
up to the surface again

did you know?

I am without you
on this shallow night swirling
inside a clear plastic bubble
and did you know
we are food for those higher up?
the entertainment value of our lives is priceless
our confusion is candy for the gods.
they sit in their clouds, laughing into the waves
gold eyes shining

my skull hurts
aching for nothing more
than a free moment
on a pure planet
wholes in the unbreakable patterns
the huge sickness
wants to infest my bloodstream
my lifeline has a bad connection
did you know
this is what the children are inheriting?

I am without you on this shallow night
swirling in a clear plastic bubble

what will you do when she speaks?

What will you tell Maha Devi when you reach her?
when you get there
when you pay the toll
and cross the bridge from living to dead?
when you wake up after this life?
what will you tell her?

will you have only questions?
will you stare at her directly until your eyes bleed?
will you pour your tears into her hands,
 will you wonder what to say
will your tongue be dry and your throat parched
and your voice higher than the clouds
will you laugh?

will you ask her about that freedom you wasted
that day you decided to give up
that language you learned in your sleep and then forgot
as your eyelids moved up and down
and then
will you ask her for another chance?

will you ask for more time on earth after those 94 years, or the three days you had?
the moments of exhilarated pain and loss you cherished, the lessons you scrawled on your limbs with tattoo ink? will you fall silent for a century, just like the statues they built from fleeting notions of what deities look like, what appearances arrive on the wind into the minds of the visual artists whose hands paint, sculpt, mold and draw the formations and outlines of those who are most elusive
yet closest to us, the entities of compassion and forgiveness, the deep abyss of knowing that science has not yet grasped, the place we turn to when all else fails, when we fail, when we fear falling, when we fall?

will you write her a list, will you ask Maha Devi for a second chance?
Will your family meet you there with her,
will you align yourself with a new lineage for next time?
will you finally release the hold you have on your illusions, will you illustrate your knowledge
with your fingertips and your heartfelt quietest whisper
will the longing finally cease in her presence? will she hold your hand as you turn to ashes
will she lift you up?

what will maha devi say to you, my friend, what will you do when she speaks,
the horrible glistening of her face, the numbers that follow the letters,
the incessant truth spilling from her, always spilling?

samsara--reprise 2014

healthy distrust
has become a must
beyond that
beautiful practices cultivated
dedication to the moment
embrace all as illusion
wherein one may manifest a life
most deeply desired
learning how to stay inspired
and the gift
blessing burden
that is this way
of being blasted open
my heart dripping laughter from my sleeve
I know now
when to leave
when I am not wanted
when the crowded room is
haunted