Saturday, March 12, 2011

Writing In That Kitchen

I was shanghaied into reading A Midsummer Night's Dream last night, despite my snarling that it couldn't possibly be as good as a tragedy. Turns out that, despite not being the same as a tragedy, it is still quite good. Hmm. 

Anyway. I seem to be on a bloggy roll, so enjoy (or don't) another fractured poem. Encoded journal entry. Twilight prose. Whatever. 


...


Writing in that kitchen,
Like an already long gone
Year.
In the dark, now sterile room - 
Waves steal in quietly
And wash back.
In
And back.
This room,
That cold basement -
Teenaged weekends.
Life turned a corner.


 

Friday, March 11, 2011

Awake But Half Asleep

Nostalgic and weird tonight.




"Jan lays down and wrestles in her sleep;
Moonlight spills on comic books
And superstars in magazines.
An old friend calls and tells us where to meet:
Her plane takes off from Baltimore,
And touches down on Bourbon Street.

We sit outside and argue all night long
About a god we've never seen
But never fails to side with me.
Sunday comes, and all the papers say
Ma Teresa's joined the mob
And happy with her full time job.

Am I alive, or thoughts that drift away?
Does summer come for everyone?
Can humans do what prophets say?
If I die before I learn to speak,
Can money pay for all the days I lived awake
But half asleep?

A life is time, they teach you growing up...
The seconds ticking killed us all
A million years before the fall.
You ride the waves, and don't ask where they go...
You swim like lions through the crest,
And bathe yourself in zebra flesh.

I've been downhearted, baby,
Ever since the day we met."
 

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Young And Naive Still

"Do not let the fact that things are not made for you, that conditions are not as they should be, stop you. Go on anyway. Everything depends on those who go on anyway." - Robert Henri

If only I could remember that. 




Thursday, March 3, 2011

You're Ridiculous and I'm Going To Bed

A just-about-midnight rant:

Yoga, as it is sensationalized in America, is an industry. Period. Get over it. If you're shocked by that, you're buying into said industry. If you care - one way or the other! - about a practitioner's reality TV show, you've bitten the fucking hook. If you think wearing makeup somehow derails you - or, in the reverse, if you believe not wearing makeup and hiding your body are your one-way fast track to enlightenment -  you never caught the damn train in the first place.

Legs on a snake, baby. Legs on a snake. 

Again. Yoga, as it is sensationalized, bought, and sold in America, is an industry. Indeed we all start on the mat - staying boxed in there is the problem. Shut up, listen to your heart, follow your soul, stay out of the loop and on your path.