march 28 between raging and drizzling

spring is here
swollen rivers run
the rains come
hair tangles unbrushed for days
we are singing, dancing,
packaging maple buds in a little pouch
for the travelling times to come

still undrawn, the scars of surviving
carried through the winter
tattooed starry stomps
burning through sheets of mist

audrey
works at the general store
she is 23 or 24, or maybe 25 like me
big with her imminent baby
her husband was stabbed
in a bar in grants pass
in a fight
they got married this summer
he worked at the general store too

mud in the tracks of boots
our people are coming and coming

throw the rotten eggs in the fire
dance close until they break on your skin
releasing the death and decay that sat under your collarbones
the composting corpses between your toes
the slime unwiped behind your heart
(all these things aren't real until they are, and maybe you fake it till you make it and then it is really gone, really)

out with the story that
the things i see, the work to be done, that i will always be the one
doing and then receiving the accolades,
going to all the things, weaving all the knowing,

out with the story that
i can do it all right, that mistakes are failures,
that the paralysis of indecision would
ever be preferable
to the sulphurous splatter
the tear-stained peeling of the onion
breathing-into-the-stomach expansion of what i thought was possible

ready for new stories,
new-old stories,
old-new ways,
where they will come from i do not know
(we are enough)

they are coming and coming and
they are dancing, they are always dancing

tips for a daily practice

let it form in your mouth--

tongue massaging pressing the back of your front two teeth,

tip of it piqued at the intersection of tooth and gum,

sliding down down down your teeth to the cliff of your open mouth

nose mouth humming nasal nascent "n"

rounding, opening, tongue flapping into the slow smooth "o"

you will need this practice.

it is good to practice this by yourself, perhaps on your way to a first date with a cute kid from okcupid or perhaps as you pick up the phone to call a parent. perhaps as you're riding your bike, hood flapping, on your way to a job or volunteer interview, somewhere where things will be asked of you. certainly on your way to the play party you're nervous and excited about, it would be good to practice. for sure as you are entering a dumpster or banquet or grocery store or place where you will be offered many things. perhaps as you sit and wait for your housemates to assemble for the meeting. definitely as you prepare to sort through old beloved objects or to clean the corners of your room, it would be good to practice this. perhaps also practice before or during any experience of momentum.

press tongue - to teeth - sliding down - nostrils flared - dropping open - rounding hum - smooth finish. repeat. repeat.

you would do well to remember that

this practice will come most in handy in the closest, most intimate situations

(walk-in closets, for instance;

being forced to stand or sit side-by-side, as an example;

sustaining shared ambiguity, most likely;

converging with any of the many or few you love, undoubtedly)

where you can remember that your tongue, your teeth, your vocal cords know already

you know how to do this, you have done it before,

even as your fingers work to tease apart sticky storied strings...

your honesty and the voicing of your hesitation will gain the rounded weight of importance.

in closeness, you will learn to say no,

to hear no.

to practice and trust that others' tongues are practicing too.

that there is space made for the presstongue-toteeth-slidingdown-nostrilsflared-droppingopen-roundinghum- smoothfinish to be heard loud and clear.

this practice

added to your daily ritual--whether brushing teeth or talking to spirit--

this practice fits well with other practices

of re-opening doors, or continuing to listen.

perhaps you could practice opening and closing a door alongside this practice.

it is just an idea.

i say this to remind you that (almost) nothing is irreversible.

another idea is to practice with a friend.

i suggest this to remind you that you can say no and yet not be alone.

another idea is to practice while doing kegels,

(i.e. temporarily stopping your flow of urine.)

i make this recommendation to remind you that the interruption of momentum might ultimately increase your pleasure.

there's a pun to be had here about knowing

and no-ing

and how we are shooting through space and time and opening opening opening ourselves stomping flying screaming and also taking care, stepping lightly, allowing slowness, calming...breathing...standing at the center of a circle we have drawn around ourselves. breaking down walls and stepping back. unleashing dams and drawing boundaries. giving ourselves wholly and reclaiming parts of ourselves a capitalist economy and overmediated world have tried to own. smashing structures that do not serve as we build homes among the chambers and organs and muscles held in by our skins.

you and i are both full of contradictions, and the space between us is brimming;

and the rubbing-together makes sparks;

i would like to point out that as there exist ORDER and CHAOS

and DARK and LIGHT

and GIVE and RECEIVE

and POSITIVE and NEGATIVE

(don't take this two-game too far, we've learned;

the fetishistic production of opposites is deceptively easy)

but if you've borne with me this far, there is also YES and NO

and as a libra, i would like to point that out,

to ask, "how are these things balanced in your days?"

[[we are not sheep we are not wolves in sheeps' clothing

we are not boys in wolves' furs

we are also boys and sheep and wolves all at once--]]

let it form in your mouth

(do you want it in your mouth? do you want me to put it in your mouth?)

press tongue - to teeth - sliding down - nostrils flared - dropping open - rounding hum - smooth finish

(what does it taste like afterwards, what do you taste)

keep practicing

(you deserve it...it's raining again)

wonderbread and wonderboy go for a walk in the woods...

do you know the story of the lupin lady?

also, dwelling in history: http://alitheavenger.blogspot.com/2008/08/recount-decount.html
practicing radical inclusion of past selves....hmhhmmhm oh berlin, oh my heart. one of many.

wanting a cigarette and questioning that desire--replacing it with stretching, yogastic satisfaction

thinking of-
healing?
how have i changed in the past year?
did college make me articulate?
how do i act on my radical politics?
does something matter if i can't articulate it (that is, spread a revolutionary consciousness)?

also geez-o, it's raining like a mofo on this thin-tin roof
& i'm thinking of population decline
(http://www.windward.org/private/articles/population01.htm)
hm bleak--whaddya think?

preparing to leave safan tomorrow morning,
leaving a red-purple-gold palatial shit chamber in my wake
gold seat fit for pillow princes and size queens alike
like the swimming idea of green tomato pies
like boletes, browncapped children of the forest fairies who live in the galls,
like two goats dead in four days and we wonder and we wonder,
like business plans are deep conversations, like
if you weren't raised eating expensive air then you'll never understand the difference
like whatever---

i am not a fountain! i am a jungle-jumble-menagerie-wet-furry-paperback-wonder!

last night i dreamt that my father was elected president (everyone said, "even if he doesn't do anything, it's a great sign. he's the best president we've ever had, and he doesn't have to lift a finger.") and that i was wandering from house to house looking for someone to give me shooting lessons.

also last night, after a day of wine tasting and cheese tasting in sutter creek,
maggie and i constructed a ritual for ourselves--of celebration, gratitude, making-space, becoming-present. drew from the rituals i had done with you folks, under the full moon on the beach before the jammin, at the sky factory under a sacrificed pinata, the queer interfaith ritual at the point this spring quarter, also the masquerade and wedding parties, also more small things of ritual and symbolism...
it was really good. we ate olive-garlic-rosemary-sourdough warm bread and kombocha squash and beans and rice and mustard greens and red wine, danced in the mud under a cloudy sky and screamed and howled and sat and were quiet. i imagined my chest to be like an advent calendar, full of tiny little doors, each door opening onto a field of stars and dark matter and space. i imagined opening each of the doors. we folded pieces of paper in half and wrote-drew "things we are stuck on/that control us" and "things that bring us strength, make us present" and shared some things (our papers looked totally different)--we planned to burn the former one, but decided to hold onto it to keep it conscious, think healing instead of throwing out. ("radical inclusion of past selves" has been a theme in my thoughts since az mentioned it in willits...it's a process.) i made some small commitments to myself, small daily rituals. it left me exhausted and good-feeling last night and quiet today.

drip drop
drip drop
drip drop

the spell of the sensuous

(lots of good stuff in this book--thanks j. here's a piece.)

"...the current commodification of 'nature' by civilization tells us little or nothing of the perceptual shift that made possible this reduction of the animal (and the earth) to an object, little of the process whereby our senses first relinquished the power of the Other, the vision that for so long had motivated our most sacred rituals, our dances, and our prayers."


"but can we even hope to catch a glimpse of this process, which has given rise to so many of the habits and linguistic prejudices that now structure our very thinking?"


"certainly not if we gaze toward that origin from within the midst of the very civilization it engendered."


"but perhaps we may make our stand along the edge of the civilization, like a magician, or like a person who, having lived among another tribe, can no longer wholly return to his own.



"he lingers half within and half outside of his community, open as well, then, to the shifting voices and flapping forms that crawl and hover beyond the mirrored walls of the city."


"and even there, moving along those walls, he may hope to find the precise clues to the mystery of how those walls were erected, and how a simple boundary became a barrier, only if the moment is timely--only, that is, if the margin he frequents is a temporal as well as a spatial edge, and the temporal structure that it bounds is about to dissolve, or metamorphose, into something else."