i’m going to live in a world one day where everybody gets it. where everyone is chilled to the bone and ripped to the point of shouting with ecstasy. i’m going to live in a time where time is felt, breathed, satiated and left wide open and heaving. i’m going to be surrounded by people who live on the edge of their minds- constant creators who give birth to new thoughts in the morning and dwell on possibility in the evening. i’m going to live with people who would never dream of missing that elusive moment when the first evening star pokes its head out of the great wandering veil of the sky. i’m going to chew, digest, become the very essence of a wave that is constantly crashing. i’m going to awake and run as fast as i can through the hills of glowing lavender, the wild meadows of untamed heather, and up through the trees growing solid and unchanging.

this world will change. explode, dissolve, evolve, collapse. i know it i feel it i believe it and i need it. i need it. 

and yet at some unbearable truth, i find that i’m alright. finally, finally. i can live in this world. because i can find those peaceful evolutions happening within the fabric of this slowly churning river. i can see the faces of strangers tilting upwards towards the sky. i can feel the soft renewal of the hope that beats through blood vessels. i exhale and my little bits of today are cascading into silent shelves of leaves. 

and is it enough? is it ever enough? when will we know when it is complete? is it possible to complete. to reach the end of human evolution? to be all that we can be. to reach the venter of the universe, turn around and gaze outward? forever outward? bounce our radar eyes off the filmy skin that holds the edges of the universe together? approach that great wide net and see it all- projected in a thousand frequencies of sacred light- all that is all. and to know the shape of things abounding. is it possible? is that truly a goal worth grasping? is it possible to live in that silent wonder? to know our names and sing them proudly? unafraid and unabashed. 

i will get somewhere. i will get where i’m going. i will grow where i am flowing and i will feel the world transform under my feet. it’s happening now. it’s happening every minute of every century from now until the end of time. it is a wide vast journey and it goes from here on a great and wild wind. 

Suddenly I’m here again. Christmas. Confused as to the meaning, blissful with the meaning. Silent with the surrender. Surrounded by the breath of the earth and the wrath of memory. Satisfied with where my journey is taking me. Missing dearly the swamps of home. Loving the sublime experience of being alive. Devoutly attached to the idea of a divine presence. Committed to love and opening my heart deeper and deeper to the endless, insatiable mystery of love everyday, every hour, every moment. Missing you. Missing you as if my heart is on my fire and my wounds will never close. Irrational with dreams and lofty ideals to the point of almost being rational. Senseless with wonder, joy and indescribable courage. Impatient for the wild facets of my dreamed destiny to come to fruition. Grateful

Almost. Almost lifted the head right off of the sky…almost lifted my hands, my whole heart, my half-remembered dream soul back into the world. Almost the word rung out like the sharp tack at the end of a sentence. Almost the slicing head of the circumcised world wandered wearily off its waist. 

It seems we made it. Breezed through the apocalypse and now stand on the other side. And we will fight, and breathe, and work and fly. We will fly. New day, new year, new cycle. Full souls, fully alive, deeply grateful. 

Deeply grateful. 

I’m writing to wring the angels out. I’m writing always to find myself, to create myself, to lose myself…and to find that I never was anything at any particular moment except an exception to all rules. An accepting wish of dying stars. I am sitting and squirming and always singing in my head the listless threads that tie together the sense of being senseless. 

I find myself riding the wave of another ceaseless drive into the ocean, into the abysmal ending of my new age…of my old passion and my desperate breath. 

This is a today and today I feel all the force of gravity that pulls on me. Sucks my civil skin straight through my pipes and levers. I am all and I am falling and I cannot wrap my head around it.

No I cannot wrap my head around this violence. Distract myself from the possession of the world’s grief. The earth is mourning and there is no end, no answer, no change in sight. There is hope. Hope on a string in the sound of a hurricane, dangling, balancing, dancing on a sweet breath of life’s youth. 


Time lingers on, freezes me in my tracks. The air is cool and listless here- it listens to itself for hours before deciding to blow in a new direction. Everything has direction here. Even words seem to bounce, pull and press towards me and away from me. 


The earth has tendency, trepidation and sensation here. It steps towards me and begs to solid. It drags and herds small factions of infinite life. It conducts an orchestra of silently swelling sounds towards a massive connection of roots, shoots and slides. 

and every moment was just like the last and every moment was like nothing before. soft skin, gentle eyes, glory glory to the sun and to the bright grass that wants to brush the teeth of my feet. glory, glory we’re all alive together.

and every moment is a great ball of iron that wraps itself, coils itself silently, slowly and sweetly around my neck. forming and foaming, collapsing and corroding. everything in every piece, momentum after momentum. and every moment knows itself, solves itself and surrounds itself. acknowledging, nudging with a tap of the tail, pushing with a tip of the hat. 


and these visceral sacred swashes of time. and the sacred feeling is never encapsulated in any one thing- rather, an amalgam of pure sensation. 

what i miss of princeton in the summer is a sheer moistness in the air that seemed to radiate from the grass and from the trees, a green humid bubble of earth wafting life into being. 

i miss the taciturn look of the sun as it blinks out at me, telling me the orb is still spinning.

i miss my mother’s soft peach laughter bouncing off the granite of the kitchen.

i miss my brother’s large, obtrusive hands that seemed to shake his words into cohesion.

i miss the rough dry grass that pounded up underneath me as a child. backyard promises to bark.


i miss, i ache,  i craft, i crawl…i know i’ll spend the rest of my life here. Never quite home, never quite away- just beyond the fence…on another branch of the tree growing upwards, upwards, upwards.