Monday, March 19, 2012

it's real it's real if it's real to you

[it is not a mess]
or, it's not a mess

it is tufts of hair and
my dandruff under your fingernails
balls of inch-long threads saved for the tiniest project

dead skin that used to be bread you made me
floss used by our best friends--
isn't it good that we have friends.

even when it's
smeared whiteface waterfall stories
we pass around pain
with promises that we will not offer only trauma as sacrifice to love

(why did we all pull the devil card?)

[and then lift up your head]
spring's coming! equinox on monday--whatcha up to! whatcha planning! spring cleaning? jumping around? planting seeds? tending toward? leaving behind? taking up again? renewing a connection with? calling out? with?
i have had so much paralysis around time and scheduling and being organized recently. it has made it tough to reach out to my buddies brothers faraway family. that's real. and between global warming and travelling east south west north winter has been a skewed kind of simmering quiet; not as much soup as expected; but i am oh yes oh yes ready for the energy these longer days are bringing in. shit's blooming up here in the northwest. doors and flowers and hearts opening and closing like doors and flowers and hearts. my body's been bubbling with tension anger energy enthusiasm desire--today i accidentally threw it all energetically at someone in a coffeeshop and watched him skitter--it's real it's real. i think i'm running trailing rhizomes--

[oh fuck yes]

[and the wreck du jour]
oatmeal + miso + olive oil + hot root or a ferment of your choice

Saturday, March 17, 2012


through a birdless sky
moon vacant, stars removed

the tortured horizon howls by
as towers full of heavy people
lean as if to sway.

upon my bike i pedal across new york's bridges,
the sea of people never parts
could any of us have imagined what this would all look like?

tears of the adirondacks
is it me or does this river still try to sing?
it's a lot to hear. so humiliated, so beautiful

a summons to court, an appearance in the cold marbled minds of men
keeps me here
in this earthless prison

my logical self looks to everything to remain
meanwhile my heart is poisoning my body with love
to remind me of how i am.

chill of this spring night
gathers on my exposed shoulders
impossible to escape; the city advertises our fate.

Monday, March 12, 2012

at the cresting of the song, i understand that i want to fly apart
fling my heart and lungs to corners far from each other
asunder/akimbo from myself
my organs losing their context and my brain melting into the pavement
what a hope!

to realize one isn't twenty any more
and certain things are not so charming
(spliffed-up tumbles down the stairs, tantrums over taxes)
that is one thing
but to know that one wants to live charmed forever anyway
well
what do you say to that, doctor?
doesn't that leave us at odds with our own bodies, aren't we going to find everything frightfully inadequate, right down to our bones, and aren't we going to tear and tear and tear at our hair until it all falls out and won't we dance until our kneecaps come loose and won't we always be aching?

still, yes, i think i'd rather be in pieces
find me in the gutter
in the old box spring
in the hedge row
a hilarious, polka-dotted fragment
one must be so serious to be a whole thing
and i would rather
laugh and laugh and laugh

Thursday, March 8, 2012





"it is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important"

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

aw oh

well i am i feel at a crossroads, and it could be a very boring crossoad
or it could be so much?
right now
today
tonight
the family,
that had been a-brewing winter plans
well
what happened?
they didnt materialize
fact
&this is ok! this is ok!

but i think i should let go!
when all our wills are truly aligned
they will align
and we will all feel good bringing our whole selves
but i dont want to compromise
and i dont think we should

i am young
i am fucking young
and i am fucking alive
and i fucking love you

Monday, March 5, 2012

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)

Thursday, March 1, 2012

America the liminal between life and death; police state.

I live now with this beautiful little lion of a cat named acu, he has taken me in. Quite the precious thing with the most fluffy downy undercarriage I have ever touched! He is definitely one of my more serious friends here.
I also live with Erik and that is going strangely and well unwell mostly. He is a very hurt person, as well as beautiful, kind, and mysterious. We are both standing on the precipice of each other, just sitting there feeling the pull to go down but some things hold us back. He is still in love with his old boyfriend and says I threaten his memory, Erik doesn't want to forget him. He says when he touches me he feels deep pain. 
I am not myself in all of this, a very good thing maybe. I mean I am here but am in a sort of state of grace. The possibility of love perhaps does that. New York perhaps does that. I am not trapped in my old stories, I feel the boundaries of my self have shifted, are shifting rapidly. 
I am broke as can be, never poorer. Yet I am unworried. I was arrested yesterday for hopping the subway. I spent all day trying to avoid the rain and finally decided to go out to this dumpster i know of. I was going to bike but did not want to be wet and cold having only pair of pants. So i decided i would dip into a little luxury and take the subway. On my way down the stairs i decided 5$ there and back was too much to pay. So i hopped.
I was held for some hours in a holding cell in Brooklyn. I sat there as one must. my hands slung through the bars. I thought what does this say about my life right now, where am I in this? Does this reveal something or is it just an arbitrary scene. I still don't know. Being arrested having my body held, my wallet emptied, phone and iPod gone through, photographed, fingerprinted all have contributed to this state of grace. Where I am in this? I lean towards saying nowhere. This has almost nothing to do with me. Moralizing assholes with no background in sociological analysis would pipe up here and say it is my fault.
I listened to the stories of three black men who were in the cell with me. They mentioned Martin luther king and slavery. Yes they are still talking about it, ever present on their souls and minds. I really cannot imagine. To even imagine what they feel is a small education in itself. The world is as bad as we say and believe (and as beautiful). We talked about when the american people are finally going to challenge the state. The cops: I got to witness their bodies in detail, their mannerisms, relationships with one another, thumping fists on chests guffawing, circle jerks; their brutal arrogance and ignorance. I cannot think of more disgusting creatures than the police, they truly are fucking pigs. If you stand too long in their presence they will eat you alive.
I had no idea when i would be getting out and i had no idea what they were digging up on me by looking through my phone and ipod, some who know me right now can perhaps imagine. I was in a cell where the only thing that moved was the locked door. It moved a millimeter back and forth inside the latch. In even a small world of a few hours this tiniest of movements became a source of hope. It was the only thing that moved in the whole cell besides our bodies. To push the door back and forth was to feel the possibility of leaving. It made the tiniest noise, the tiniest friction, but if I were serious enough it could make a lot of noise and I wondered if I could break out if I tried hard. Being contained is maddening beyond anything. So maddening that I had to become silent and extremely calm. 
What happened to me is dramatic but comparatively not so. A brush with the beast. Still I feel the presence of the forces around us. A million invisible strings we are constantly moving through, tripping up on, dragging, setting off. The forces are very real and I have been given another warning, be careful! "we will take you". We are not free, ha, and definitely not in the cities. Ask and you shall receive? Is this what we ask for? We are not free.
I have a court date for hopping the subway. Give us all a break. I am working on getting a job ASAP just in case I have to pay a fine. For now I will walk with my head down and not look at the police. Silence, my mother inadvertently taught me, is still strength. I will walk acting like a subdued person. I do not want to deal with them ever again. I'll do anything to avoid them touching me. When they touch me I feel the injustice of their very existence. When they touch us I feel stunned, how can this be?
We are not free. My mother who was carted off to jail repitedly. They took her and made her disappear. The child screamed at and beaten for not moving within the confines of the box called boy is still me. I was arrested when i was twelve for fooling around with neighborhood boys. I was scapegoated because everyone knew I was a fag. They took my body away from the prison that was home to another prison: juvenile jail. They would scream so loud at us that my ear would bleed at night. I am very deaf in one ear now. We are not free unless freedom lies within the confines of the game we play. We have small freedoms we can create and hideaway with, but they cannot all be displayed. How much more of our lives do we spend courting the ruling class? How long do we eat the crumbs they give and continue calling it a feast?

I am fucking pissed
I tremble with unshed tears
threatening to drown me

To be queer is truly a gift
as well as a black eye and a bloody lip.
it is everything

this country is a terrible joke,
I can't stand now
I gotta sit.