scratched into my skin

Dear Benny,

Tonight I feel you everywhere. Your caustic voice, your rippling laugh, your eyes on me – a secret joke – your rough scratched beard a promise ; your caretaking a memory. The lights glow with that familiar warmth, the chords sing with some ancient harmony // the cup-sized friendship still holds water – your absence is everywhere though , sitting on the couch ; I do not want to glower in this feeling of aliveness; it feels somehow wrong ; I remember the care you gave others, the resonance of your sincerity, your advice, clear like a knife, rich with experience ; I remember your stories ; your late night lettuce theiving ;; some joke you are always playing on the world / the impossibility of your absence, the firmness of your presence in all of us ; the way our hearts are all scarred ; the way our scars show faultlines — tectonic plated ; aching love that burns deep ; rivers that peel canyons into stone // leaves marks ;; like so many scratched prison tattoos you pressed into your own skin ; like so many handmade tattoos you tried to teach me how to make – on some summer night when the music flowed out onto the side patio and the warm night air flooded the LED lights you brought to bring light to our magic – and my own virgin skin, my precious lack of understanding, only conceiving in imagination the reality that you bore, the thick reality of piercing yourself with handmade instruments in the loneliest of places – in solitary confinement, ratcheting new dreams onto your skin as a prayer, as a promise, to one day give your light, your art, dreams, back to us, and me, in my fragile understanding, undeserving of this momentous gift – the love and understanding you bestowed, like a prayer, like a promise, and the good works I must follow to the edge of visible light, past hardships I cannot conceive of except in imagination – to spread the light, to keep the promise, like so many handmade prison tattoos scratched into my skin – be that honest. Be that giving.

More than your conception can imagine.

skeleton

radioactive love, this mountain of moving music // the miles from my eyes to yours ;; the stretched distance which becomes thin upon listening / the curvature of sound which never makes it from my lips to yours / the desperation of angled skin cells ; hunting for one another ; like a desolate skeleton of love once-discarded ; always buried ; never burned ; ashen in cruelty ; and firmly, fearlessly;; still alive

A prayer to the midnight oil

I hope my friends are okay. I hope the midmorning light finds you in the presence of sweet breezes. I hope you find the moon light on the eyelashes of your skin and it reminds you that you’re whole. I hope you are not afraid of the dawning of the new light. I hope you know there are mornings to be met, in whatever new eyes you have to see. I hope you greet the side of the mountain, see it’s height, and know that you are capable. I pray for strength for my friends, for the paths they must walk far harder than mine. For the roads they walk, far more treacherous than mine. I pray for the fortitude, the resilience of the human spirit; the bravery. I pray for the health and safety of my friends.

the resting place of the air

i, savage rapture of my insides pulling against one another — i reach towards the sun, the sun pearls her little eyelashes back at me ;; i raid my memory for all the sweetest bits, the sticky glue to piece myself back together — i peel through every word and imagine it without you, my heart breaks at every small suture; i pull myself apart, i weave myself back together again

I, grown – feel my little life spinning again, feel like my heart has powers i’ve always waited to grow in to – i feel a silent blue light, a permanence of confidence, an unshakeable serenity — i feel i have all the time in the world, little youth bird, little capturer of light and words — i feel the resting place of the air – filled with words and wishes, i know how deeply i need the air and i know not why the universe spins this compass, peels me into the strange directions — i feel the universe in my every thought, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, i am trusting, or trying to, i am resisting, or trying to, i am releasing, or trying to

I love him terribly, terribly // my eyes fill with tears, i love him terribly

Strength is not devoid of pain, of attachment, of fear // love, an endless everything

I cannot loose myself from your sweetest caress, your confident affirmations, your presence and your care, the shelter of your body, your radiant joy, the peals of laughter, the courage and comfort – i love you terribly  

 

We are messy bundles of mistakes we humans, we try and try again, we fail, we grow, we learn, we shape, we fail again, we roll downhill and pick up steam and turn into a better self, if we’re lucky. I want to be a better self, no matter how many times i feel i am cooked – no one is ever cooked, no one is ever anything more than a spinning ball — it helps when i fail // i need to remember to remember to let go endlessly, to need less, to love more freely, with patience and forgiveness for myself, and patience and forgiveness for others — not to never mess up, but to always apologize and learn, always be reaching towards my higher self, even though oftentimes the growth spins round in circles, knocks you off and peels you back up again – the path is not linear, growth is not easy, failing is normal, trying again is brave

the heart that tears at the seams;; peels and purges itself — the heart that batters the rain, weathers the veins of the earth, peers through every open ventricle – vehicular everything;; finely tuned manner of mannerless measurements towards the manic love of living — with fresh air and fresh dirt beneath me

but you, everlastingly in front of me — the pain of the sidewalk everlastingly spreading in all directions

Of course, she says,
of course,
No other way could this possibly have ended
No other way could my heart feel the bitter taste of regret so violently

Other than you dropping the phone at the end of the line,, an endless plastic line of webbing drawing all of the fools to the table

You didn’t do anything wrong, you say; I say

I capsized first you, drawing the end of the life raft towards you like a blanket — I always knew I say;; your words tip like the finality of a star feeding itself with its own fire — the metaphors are strong here, the words are weak; the magnetic force is quantum;; neverending and pink

Of course, my heart would butterchurn and evaporate at the sound of your footsteps walking away- how could I never not always know that? Of course, my mind would splinter cell and cut all the corners ;; how could that not be laced into my DNA?

And this trauma too – will it too be laced into my DNA? Passed down the endless line? When do the chromosomes bend back in armor and fold over in rebellion- new patterns and arrangements the strongest fight there is;; when does it wash out?

topography

my insides melt like acid rain, the fire of being close to the horizon of your love like a heart attack in space — my oxygen like an every present stagnation of brittle air on caustic lungs — the folded lifetime between us getting smaller again — I cannot take this many lost lifetimes, my heart cannot bear this much battering ,; my heart flings clusters of ventricles into the cosmos, into the meteoric heart crash of another one burning up in the atmosphere;; into the radioactive pull of memories ;; the laceration that laughter makes on the atmosphere – the joy that glitters out of pancaked faces and half-guaged jokes at something jarring — an instant; the instantaneous transformation of the climate — the radical shift in the tilt in the earth’s axis when you tell me a combination of simple words ;; the way the ocean floor sinks 500 feet deeper into the earth’s crust every time I remember ,, my little old heart cant handle much more

i rotate the cuffs of my heart through the paneled glass revolving doors of the world;; through all the plate glass panels playing with my perception. i pummel towards purer perception;;

i close again, a gift;; a loud musical reverie;; of soaring notes and blissful heels pounding the stage; of bedazzled bodysuits and prayers to release the oppressed – of pinks and purples, hues of ancient words and melodies laced on top of one another ;; of friendship and love and labored breathing and long black wigs and dancing in the wing-light of transfixed song wonder ;; of silliness and laughter — of fruition and togetherness — of joy on joy and the gratitude i have once again for the incredible gift of what creations life lets me be a part of

to more creation, more joy, more laughter

to building

like flame i catch disease; i catch bones in my eyes, i swallow heart for breakfast — like love i capsize on occasion;;

i try to find compassion for you, find the most human parts — i look past the brittle surface — i find the motivation for your movement, for your callousness and corrosive words — i look past the fudgey lines of the way we all present, the forms we all form in – i try to see the best in you, in each, in all

up and out and away – i hope for the glow of creation, for everyone, at all times / the past few weeks and months have reminded me of what i really want – love for the other, compassion, creation for everyone, self-actualization for everyone, and the manifestation of what sets us all alight, so that we may all glow – that we may all inspire one another, so that we can all create more beautiful, more meaningful things together. sure, it’s easy to call me too idealistic, but this is the one of the only things that truly matters – all becoming alive together – a world full of people that are fully alive and full of light and love

to building that world

little everythingbox

my heart, it’s always about my little water wheel of a heart; little flutterby, caging wings and servicing kings; little wind chime chiming out of tune; little everythingbox containing more matter than could possibly matter to one person // little everythingheart i cannot be stopped; i thump towards the horizon; dragging myself through the wretched air and the branches that peel themselves from their leaves ;; bringing themselves solidly and singularly back to the surface of themselves – the utter indistinguishable truth of their barrenness – blank page on the sky’s horizon, aimless arrows in all directions — pointing everywhere, leading nowhere, aching endlessly — like my little heart, it’s always somehow a metaphor about my little heart

little gratefulness tune — i keep myself above the water, i take the high road, i ride the tumult of waves, i peel through your pressure, i promise myself the life without judgment of ridicule or mean-spiritness, i promise myself the higher light within shining, i glaze right past your glare ;; i love through the rotten air ;; i punish myself enough ;; i get stuck in my own head enough ;; i recognize my own mistakes, i pray endlessly to know my own faults better and with more veracity and honesty

and still the glow of eyes on eyes and words laying on top of words thrills my facile brain, still the pump and pummel of the stage curls my toes in my shoes and sends my spine serpentine and satiated — still i love the creation, the joy of meaning in words and the fullness of emotion in implication // still i love the full-bodied rapture of the thing, the way the body feels against all the motions, emotions, fabrics, wooden benches and handles of pewter // still i love the full-bodied rapture of the thing

for bella

curtain-high-tailed riptide away from here;; rip / sigh / away from me // fill up all the edges with all the love you have ever been given and give it back

August 1st and it’s always your day ;; you’re always in the sparkle green leaves and shooting streaks of twilight at the end of the day / you’re in everyday baby girl ; just beyond the root of the Queen Anne’s lace ; you are everlong; a dream ; an 18 year old beauty queen forever ; into eternity and back again ;; you are love, and love never dies ;; you are light, and light never shies away from the shadows // your memory is high art; our ability to still be alive – a blessing ;; you always remind me to stay alive on this day, to be grateful for my breath, for my still beating heart, for the road still unwinding // we are always grateful to you for waking us up, we are always missing you, we are always trying to shadow and reflect just a drop of the endless chasm of love you were able to spill into the world / we are always trying to be love, the way that you perpetually are

Deep bellied, full laughs; I’ll try to do them for you today and every day of my little life

When I think of you I smile; I feel no fear; I feel no desire to drag my feet through life; I feel the urge to dive into the deep end with reckless abandon;; thank you for that