the stillness this morning is beautiful. i drop my anchor inside it.

i stumble about in the dark. my bare feet touch the ice cold floor. my naked body brushes the surface of a hard, unyielding wall. my knees wrap around a sharp edge of concrete. a right angle settles between my breasts. a jagged hardness nestles between my legs. coolness parts the lips between my thighs. a clock ticks in the kitchen. in the living room. in the dining room. in the bedroom. i hear the asynchronous passing of time. i smell oranges ripening on a countertop. i smell roses decaying in a vase. a breath pauses in the bedroom. my uncertain fingers grasp the stuccoed wall. my startled shoulders freeze in mid-curl. i wait. i wait. i hear the bed creek, the breath resume. my fingers loosen. my shoulders fall. i lick my teeth. i suck my lips. my anchor trembles. my arrhythmic heart beats inside my chest. i shut my eyes for more darkness. stars shimmer inside my eyelids. fireworks explode inside my body. i dig my anchor deeper into this paradoxical stillness.

there is something to blindness. there is something to loss.

there is something felt. there is something found.



somewhere between
the convex edge of
and the monotone plateau of
there is a blunt, rock-hard
that asks no questions
and entertains no doubts



everything ends.

as we complete things
and make them ‘perfect,’

they are already
breaking down,

making space

new life,
new being,

new integrations,
new dispersions,
new hesitations,
new truths,
new lies.


what is this heartbeat of yours?
there is a gender to it.
gender is a politically correct word
that means nothing.

there is a sex.

there is a sex to your heartbeat. 
there is a flutter to the way it rises,
like unfurling wings,
and to the way it lifts,
and to the way it flies.

there is a...
a texture,
a color,
a shape to the way it collapses,
and to the way it shivers,
and to the way it falls.

and to you,
there is a kindling of being,
and of life,
and of immortality.

and i want to sit here
in the mist of this sex,
this way,
this you,
and become immortal too.



this new day
has imprisoned 
my senses
has taken me 
by the eyes
has swallowed me
into its depth

and i can no longer see
what is obvious
apparent or visible
but can intuit only 
what is secret
hidden and unknown

and into this bright gorge
i deliver myself
body and




early morning.


only the sound of the occasional car heard in the distance, beyond the security of my windows. in the remote wilderness, the wail of a siren. disquieting, this sound. disquieting, on a visceral level. and more disturbing as it draws near. it is a reminder of just how fragile each moment is… just how radically a world can change in an instant.

there is an order to everything. a mysterious order that keeps together the functioning of our lives. an order that is as perfect as clockwork. but if this order… this perfection… should veer off course, what challenges to the human Self! and what extraordinary measures to regain equilibrium!

the sound has gone away, but it has not taken with it its unsettling effect. rather, it has left behind a token to irk me… to unease me. this token, a faint twitch in the pit of my gut. something to keep me on my toes and prevent me from living fully my early morning moments of solitude and serenity. here i came to sit, on the bed of this… my silent sea. 

here i came to be, far away from all but me. to float inside the iridescent transparency of purifying water. to sit, with the sand settled around me. and here, my sands have been disturbed, and have muddled my water and my vision, leaving my eyes smarting with revulsion.

can i make this feeling depart? do i dare to walk away from it? but, no! it will follow me. instead, i will sit with it.

i close my eyes to keep out the sand, but those grains that have found their way in are nestled deeply, unwilling to release their need to be with... inside… me.

we are bound to live in unclear waters, with sand challenging our vision. or, are we? we are not bound! we are never bound! we are only so if we tell ourselves we are so. 

we make statements to ourselves and allow them to become our truths.

i let my truth be something else, something i choose to create. i let that be my self-chosen fate. i let it be my new is.


i am still here. and the sand is settling.