12272017

pure sensation

.

.

.

the agony of the wait.

dance with me.

in the flow of stagnation

.

.

.

redemption.

09172017

for the wild side...

in case it has been tamed.
or shamed.

09102017

the unforgiving hardness of stone.

the supple flow of water.

the reconciliation of polarities.

the multidimensionality of liminal spaces.

such is the elegant intersubjectivity of nature.

09042017

she said,

why does history keep repeating itself?

i feel as though i’m journeying

twice through every story

of my life.

i said,

that is the story of life.

she said,

how am i supposed

to move on?

i said,

don’t try to forget.

remember. honor the

truth of your own reality.

she said,

how am i supposed

to start over?

i said,

imagine. and, believe.

she said,

just like that?

i said,

just like that.

07052017

i awaken feeling rested. but, this is an impure experience of rest… one washed with a tint of contrition. i fell asleep on a wave of extravagance. abundance. excess. 

i open my eyes cautiously, aiming for the window. it’s still dark outside. the night remains dense in our vision far beyond the moment its thickness begins to unravel. but, i am not here to wax philosophical. or, am i? maybe so. 

i have been in active inner conversation, these past few weeks. late nights are especially dialogical. early mornings bring unrepentant discretion. 

i have learned to attune holistically to the sound humming inside the modest space of pre-dawn. i have learned to gather wisdom from the lips of quietude, consolidate it, and sprinkle it generously back into the boundless dark. 

i have in me a stammering need to say nothing, to deliver nothing and, instead, to settle into flowing inactivity. i am leaning into this reprieve. to sense. to embody. to make sense. 

i drop all filters. 

i unadulterate all truth. 

i unboundary all subjectivity. 

i am here to encounter.

and acknowledge. 

and support. 

some may call this

navel-gazing.

i think not.

this, i say, is

genuine authenticity—truth 

that connects with the self 

before it summons another.

06292017

the chirp and trill of nature

its thistly restlessness

its intoxicating disregard

i dwell within the tension of that pulse

now. and. now. and. now.

06232017

to a thought that dropped by, uninvited:

you offered a pronouncement, bluntly

i offered a response, politely and untruthfully

but here is a truth,

because i should say it:

i think, in this moment,

about how accidental you are

how incidental,

in your own inconsequential way

how small you are, and

how i trifle with your nothingness, and

how you keep returning

for more… and more… and more

06192017

another mindful serendipity...

emptiness 

fills the hours

not for an absence of

things to do

but for an absence of

emptiness

06152017

stillness.

oh, and gratitude!

.

.

.

so long as this space unfolds,

i spread myself within it

like sun rays in rippling water.

06112017

you ask me what thoughts

ravaged me all night as

i lay awake, alert,

vigilant.

but, the thoughts are not at fault,

i think to myself.

it was the sound of the wind

wrapping its wings around

the flowering daisies,

its hunger raw

with certainty.

06072017

to one who stopped in after a spell of time:

i am the one constant in this garden of 

undressed words and candid life. 

you will come. 

you will go. 

i will stay. 

watering my thirsty soil. 

nursing my primal roots of humanness.

.: loss∞desire∞obsession :.

if you tread,

tread gently, please.

06032017

she said,

it’s been so long.

i said,

so long since when?

she said,

since we last sat together.

i said,

time is a social construction.