Archive of output

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cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#6666FF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="04200760egblyg.jpg"> <div> <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#330066" FACE="Times New Roman" ><B>Eyes Closed, Free Falling</b></FONT><FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#CC3399" FACE="Times New Roman" > </FONT><FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#3300FF" FACE="Times New Roman" >  </FONT><B> |     </b><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Eyes Closed, Free Falling"><U><B>home</b></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id17.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="The Dream"><U>The Dream</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id27.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Output"><U>Output</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id28.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="dreamlog "><U>dream*log </U></A>   |   <B>Archive of output</b>   |   <A HREF="id24.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE=" Links"><U> Links</U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=193 BGCOLOR="#6633FF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B><IMG SRC="180644b0.jpg" border=0 width="100" height="75" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></b></div> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#6633FF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>Archive of output</b></div> <div> <B><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="Wing0a73007700f0ccccff00.gif" HEIGHT="16" WIDTH="24" ALIGN="bottom" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0">Ummmm.....yeah....this is the retirement home of the poems in Output..</b></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Sharpie Slag</b></I></div> <bR> <div> asymetrical molding of molten mentality</div> <div> asynchronous analogue, deceptively liquid</div> <div> and set with burned out hearts of stars</div> <div> this ring of thought I wear like a halo</div> <div> an ever tightening, rotating band </div> <div> of irrelevancies, choking wind out of me</div> <bR> <div> <B>stop breathing</b></div> <bR> <div> watch those comets fall past in</div> <div> immeasurable arcs of blazing self destruction</div> <bR> <div> <I>now breathe again</I></div> <bR> <div> when the ground I walk on erupts in response</div> <div> to the pelting of falling lights, I count craters</div> <bR> <div> <B>STOP BREATHING</b></div> <bR> <div> until every pock mark on the lovely visage of </div> <div> my world is filled with shining water; tears or dew</div> <bR> <div> <I>breathe once more</I></div> <bR> <div> heart beat out of alignment with the blinking</div> <div> of dry eyes and staggering inhalations</div> <div> heart breaking out of sheer torque, </div> <div> the gears of emotion wrench themselves to a halt...</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><B>may 2002</b></I></div> <bR> <div> <B>strong winds</b></div> <div> <B>a lifted veil reveals</b></div> <div> <B>the face of bright light</b></div> <div> <B>and blazing heat</b></div> <div> <B>mitigated by a whisper...</b></div> <bR> <div> <B>the jet stream </b></div> <div> <B>blows your mask</b></div> <div> <B>high into the hard sky-</b></div> <div> <B>up! like a kite with no tail</b></div> <bR> <div> <B>I watch it,</b></div> <div> <B>wonder what you really are...</b></div> <div> <B>but I do not see you there,</b></div> <div> <B>on the ground far below</b></div> <bR> <div> <B>you are hidden in </b></div> <div> <B>fields of soft static.</b></div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <I><B>Molcajate</b></I></div> <bR> <div> <B>round, all round</b></div> <div> <B>and abrasive within</b></div> <div> <B>made to hold my pulped soul</b></div> <div> <B>this world</b></div> <bR> <div> <B>cradles, contains</b></div> <div> <B>what once was solid</b></div> <div> <B>and allows adequate room to grind</b></div> <div> <B>the hopes</b></div> <bR> <div> <B>this earthen mortar </b></div> <div> <B>in which we have made lives</b></div> <div> <B>and the pestle pounds unending</b></div> <div> <B>into hearts</b></div> <bR> <div> <I><B> without title</b></I></div> <bR> <div> <B>barely touching</b></div> <div> <B>I reassure myself</b></div> <div> <B>of reality</b></div> <div> <B>my pulse is ticking</b></div> <div> <B>how fast can you drive?</b></div> <div> <B>elusive</b></div> <div> <B>individual</b></div> <div> <B>capsules</b></div> <div> <B>dry eyes</b></div> <div> <B>I moisten with</b></div> <div> <B>artificial tears</b></div> <div> <B>the dust blows</b></div> <div> <B>you drive too fast</b></div> <div> <B>what will I do</b></div> <div> <B>for the missing pieces </b></div> <div> <B>of this collage?</b></div> <div> <B>I snip pieces of </b></div> <div> <B>my own skin and I</b></div> <div> <B>glue them in the spaces</b></div> <div> <B>car wrecks are horrible to watch</b></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><B>resevoir</b></I></div> <bR> <div> <B>   </b><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#330033" FACE="Times New Roman" ><B> her hands describe a circle</b></FONT></div> <div> <B>a round of rippling silk</b></div> <div> <B>her boat is cutting over</b></div> <div> <B>but the shore is not to touch</b></div> <div> <B>fingers slicing, tenderly bisecting</b></div> <div> <B>while the sky smears down</b></div> <div> <B>streaking sun across </b></div> <div> <B>green and white wake</b></div> <div> <B>she does not know how to swim...</b></div> <bR> <div> <B>06-03-02</b></div> <div> june heat</div> <div> wrapped in white shirts</div> <bR> <div> nipples like peas</div> <div> under thin cloth</div> <bR> <div> clinging with sweat</div> <div> and humidity's dew</div> <bR> <div> gleaming ruddy rose</div> <div> glowing sun baked bronze</div> <div> glistening sheen of moisture</div> <bR> <div> june greenery</div> <div> prospers as it may</div> <bR> <div> rose bud flirtation,</div> <div> strip tease of petals</div> <bR> <div> virginally unfurling</div> <div> into luscious bloom</div> <bR> <div> velvet soft eruption</div> <div> silken show in silence</div> <div> satin display of summer</div> <bR> <div> june skies</div> <div> brilliantly bright</div> <bR> <div> fickle and moody:</div> <div> threat of rain or brutal sun</div> <bR> <div> clouds heavy with </div> <div> welcome water</div> <bR> <div> dark with promise</div> <div> pregnant and overdue</div> <div> suddenly withholding</div> <bR> <div> june nights</div> <div> tossing and turning</div> <bR> <div> sheets clinging to</div> <div> flushed and fevered skin</div> <bR> <div> windows flung wide</div> <div> and begging for the breeze</div> <bR> <div> sky all black and bruised blue</div> <div> mad with stars strewn like scattered gems</div> <div> moon in sullen glory, hazy with leftover heat</div> <bR> <div> june memories</div> <div> just as june it's self</div> <bR> <div> happiness shrouded</div> <div> in low hanging vapors</div> <bR> <div> the smell of storms</div> <div> violent peltings of hail</div> <bR> <div> fifteen minute flash floods </div> <div> sun showers of aimless tears</div> <div> cloud bursts pierced with light...</div> <bR> <div> pure electricity</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>  5-14-02 12:35 a.m.</b></div> <div> I find odd bruises on me</div> <div> marks of clumsiness, carelessness</div> <div> my physical vulnerability...</div> <div> the bruises on me...</div> <div> I'm never sure where they came from</div> <div> I find them accidentally</div> <div> fingertips float across the pain</div> <div> which makes me stop</div> <div> and assess myself</div> <div> the bruising</div> <div> like the damaged flesh of fruit</div> <div> recalls rough handling...</div> <div> everyday I find another</div> <div> and another</div> <div> as though they breed</div> <bR> <div> the bruises on the outside of me</div> <div> are nothing in comparison</div> <div> to the ones hidden</div> <div> under the skin and next to the ribs....</div> <div> but when you press hard</div> <div> on a small purple bruise</div> <div> my heart hurts in sympathy</div> <div> the bruises on me </div> <div> are battle scars of living</div> <div> these silly bruises on me...</div> <div> make me want to cry</div> <div> an admission</div> <div> of frailty</div> <bR> <div> these bruises</div> <div> on the surface</div> <div> and in the hollows</div> <div> all those hidden places</div> <div> of delicate pain</div> <div> I do not show</div> <div> but cannot ignore</div> <div> all the deep purple</div> <div> symbols</div> <div> the blue contusions-</div> <div> who could be oblivious</div> <div> to so many </div> <div> bruises?</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>3-13-02 12:05 a.m.</b></div> <div> You're as a scarf,</div> <div> a warmth</div> <div> comforting, strangling</div> <div> the sore throat</div> <div> lips on bones;</div> <div> hands fanned across</div> <div> the sternum...</div> <div> thumbs</div> <div> neck cradling,</div> <div> fingertips  in</div> <div> the hollows of</div> <div> the jaw</div> <div> and a breath </div> <div> against the ear canal...</div> <div> You communicate</div> <div> in shivers</div> <div> and skin writhing</div> <div> neural responses-</div> <bR> <div> my face is turned away,</div> <div> looking far away,</div> <div> looking for a way</div> <div> and you...</div> <div> I do not see.</div> <bR> <div> when I turn towards</div> <div> your physical presence</div> <div> all that is left</div> <div> is a sonic ripple</div> <div> and a golden afterglow____</div> <bR> <div> <B>4-09-02            </b>                                                                    </div> <div> is this the process?</div> <div> from Green maturity</div> <div> to rotten </div> <div> mouldering Wrath to</div> <div> dried and worthless Rind?</div> <div> The Fruits of this Love....</div> <div> i thought to skip</div> <div> from Ripe wholeness</div> <div> to a withered Husk </div> <div> and be free of</div> <div> that Virulent rot.</div> <div> but i find myself</div> <div> with Mold</div> <div> at the edges</div> <div> as the Love goes sour,</div> <div> goes Bad</div> <div> and Worse:</div> <div> my love, a bowl of Fruit</div> <div> left to Spoil in the sun.</div> <div> painless,</div> <div> it still leaves a</div> <div> trail</div> <div> of bitter Scent,</div> <div> Gag Reflex</div> <div> and scavenging Flies...</div> <div> a deep Wound left</div> <div> to Putrefy:</div> <div> (did you know?)</div> <div> Maggots will only feed</div> <div> on Dead Flesh and</div> <div> leave behind the Living...</div> <div> when they have fallen off,</div> <div> Fat and satiated with</div> <div> your Taste on their mouths</div> <div> and your Substance</div> <div> in their Guts,</div> <div> they will Transmute</div> <div> and wing you away</div> <div> from me,</div> <div> my living flesh</div> <div> allowed to Heal...</div> <bR> <div> <B>    4-09-02</b></div> <div> <I><B> Lepidoptera </b></I>  </div> <div> Gloved hands</div> <div> vertical incision</div> <div> peel back and pin skin</div> <div> expose</div> <div> where it lies</div> <div> fluttering</div> <div> admire it's grace</div> <div> remove it entirely</div> <div> as it continues</div> <div> to struggle</div> <div> place it carefully</div> <div> upon the mounting board</div> <div> like a moth</div> <div> or</div> <div> butterfly</div> <div> pin it down</div> <div> and preserve it:</div> <div> dead, it is just</div> <div> as amazing alive...</div> <div> Or?</div> <div> No.</div> <div> touch it, it shudders and</div> <div> falls into dust</div> <div> on your finger like</div> <div> the scales on</div> <div> wings of Lepidoptera...</div> <bR> <div> what heart?</div> <bR> <div> <B>4-24-02</b></div> <div> <I><B>Shaved   </b></I></div> <div> Cocoon</div> <div> Silken</div> <div> Calves</div> <div> Articulated</div> <div> Spine</div> <div> and </div> <div> Wind</div> <div> blowing</div> <div> fire</div> <div> Ozone</div> <div> layer</div> <div> in retreat</div> <div> Brings</div> <div> the Sun</div> <div> Kissing</div> <div> close</div> <div> Burned</div> <div> lips</div> <div> Scorch first</div> <div> then</div> <div> Mango peel</div> <div> Smooth</div> <div> Legs</div> <bR> <bR> <div> .<B>Sept.16 2000 10:45 p.m.</b></div> <div> keeping warm</div> <div> sultry september</div> <div> sparks before it cools,</div> <div> simmers before frosting over.</div> <div> blood warms to fight</div> <div> the fall's inevitable chill-</div> <div> bodies colliding</div> <div> like subatomic particles,</div> <div> bodies hunting eachother</div> <div> like heat-seeking missiles,</div> <div> bodies pressing together and</div> <div> combusting into open flame-</div> <div> while the leaves turn</div> <div> and ice makes window pane inroads:</div> <div> bodies and bodies</div> <div> just</div> <div> trying to keep warm.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> This was written a while back but...</div> <div> <B>12-31-01 10:21 p.m.</b></div> <div> Standing</div> <div> waist deep</div> <div> in a blue green sea</div> <div> of grass that</div> <div> waves in the wind</div> <div> I stare</div> <div> at the horizon;</div> <div> twilight as it is,</div> <div> and Orion just begun</div> <div> to show his form...</div> <div> I look with</div> <div> eagle eyes</div> <div> to the place </div> <div> I know you dwell,</div> <div> looking to see you looking</div> <div> as well.</div> <div> the wind blows and on it</div> <div> I hear a whisper of</div> <div> your voice saying my name,</div> <div> caressing my face:</div> <div> I smile.</div> <div> I take your name and</div> <div> fling it back across the plain</div> <div> to be to you</div> <div> a sign and tether</div> <div> invisible, enduring.</div> <bR> <div> I don't know you,</div> <div> but I'm waiting...</div> <bR> <div> take your time.</div> <bR> <div> <B>1-27-02</b></div> <div> <I><B>mizuko</b></I></div> <div> Silent, small... </div> <div> Translucent,</div> <div> they swim</div> <div> water babies...</div> <div> the water children </div> <div> of my love.. </div> <div> I cry dry tears </div> <div> for them </div> <div> and blow them </div> <div> the kisses I never </div> <div> got to kiss. </div> <div> I loved them </div> <div> for his sake... </div> <div> mizuko...</div> <div> we cried for them. </div> <div> now he is gone as well.</div> <div> I cry tears like </div> <div> desert winds </div> <div> all alone...</div> <bR> <div> and no one knows... </div> <bR> <div> *curls up, holding herself* </div> <div> *stares at the stars and wonders....* </div> <div> *there is still hope there..and beauty*</div> <bR> <div> <B>1-23-02</b></div> <div> <I><B>Guanyin   </b></I></div> <div> I wear Chanel No.5 </div> <div> from the page of</div> <div> a glossy magazine</div> <div> on smooth wrists;</div> <div> there is no one here</div> <div> to smell their tender</div> <div> scent...</div> <div> I day dream of</div> <div> visiting Gaunyin</div> <div> in his house of</div> <div> crystal glass, to touch the</div> <div> clear planes</div> <div> and imagine his velvet liquid</div> <div> flowing feel...</div> <div> I drowse off to</div> <div> the sub-audio</div> <div> of a humming</div> <div> bus driver's non-melody </div> <div> and wonder when the time will come</div> <div> for me to fly</div> <div> into the bright white</div> <div> of the snow at night</div> <div> which falls like</div> <div> prayers from the lips</div> <div> of tibet...</div> <bR> <bR> <div> who is watching while I sleep?</div> <div> I sleep anyway.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>december27-01 11:50 p.m.</b></div> <div> Crouched down</div> <div> face close to the surface</div> <div> watching for some sign:</div> <div> Yes or No...</div> <div> She sees a fish</div> <div> (silver scales, opaque tail)</div> <div> and takes it for</div> <div> Go...</div> <div> Presses face first</div> <div> in and through and down</div> <div> eyes wide;</div> <div> She gasps in wonder</div> <div> at the splendor</div> <div> on the other side-</div> <div> and joins with it forever-</div> <div> The fish moves</div> <div> as if to speak,</div> <div> circles her ankles,</div> <div> guides her feet-</div> <bR> <div> <B>december27-01 11:40 p.m.</b></div> <div> She reaches out to the sky,</div> <div> fingers stretched wide</div> <div> to grasp</div> <div> the singular stars:</div> <div> the ones that shine</div> <div> perhaps less brightly</div> <div> than the rest-</div> <div> She holds the weary stars,</div> <div> the tired, exhausted stars</div> <div> (though stars no less)</div> <div> in her cupped palms</div> <div> and sings them the songs</div> <div> in the chords they know:</div> <div> the chorus </div> <div> of the heavenly spheres,</div> <div> she sings with</div> <div> her eyes closed</div> <div> and eyelashes jeweled</div> <div> with tears.</div> <div>  </div> <bR> <div> <B>december21-01 6:15 p.m.</b></div> <div> <I>(the end of you)</I></div> <div> A quiver ran through</div> <div> my core and shook</div> <div> my liver, kidneys, lungs-</div> <div> I shiver with butterflies</div> <div> in my stomach at</div> <div> the brilliant speed</div> <div> with which I have run</div> <div> ahead to see the finale</div> <div> before you.</div> <div> You have seen it now as well;</div> <div> you have caught up.</div> <div> The stillness is vastly</div> <div> more stirring than the</div> <div> involuntary shudder-</div> <div> Shh!</div> <div> It is the aftermath...</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>december21-01 12:15 a.m</b></div> <div> fingertips</div> <div> groping</div> <div> through open space</div> <div> they search</div> <div> for you,</div> <div> the feel of you</div> <div> who ever you are</div> <bR> <div> eyes caress</div> <div> empty air</div> <div> to discern</div> <div> the curves</div> <div> of your face</div> <div> in invisibility</div> <div> where ever </div> <div> you should be</div> <bR> <div> ears listen</div> <div> for the echo</div> <div> of your footfall</div> <div> your voice</div> <div> calling me</div> <div> to your side</div> <div> how ever</div> <div> you would</div> <bR> <div> lips to kiss</div> <div> and laugh</div> <div> and tell you</div> <div> all the things</div> <div> I'm thinking now</div> <div> and you may stay</div> <div> when ever </div> <div> you wish </div> <bR> <div> heart of ice</div> <div> seeking to melt</div> <div> in the heat</div> <div> of your gaze</div> <div> and you may</div> <div> confide in me</div> <div> what ever you want.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>december12 2001 11:40 p.m.</b></div> <div> <I><B>Winter</b></I></div> <bR> <div> falling snow</div> <div> brightens the</div> <div> frigid night</div> <div> with it's cloud cover</div> <div> glowingly white</div> <div> and swirling</div> <div> glittering light.</div> <bR> <div> it smothers</div> <div> muffling with cold</div> <div> all sounds;</div> <div> icing over the deep</div> <div> curves of my frown,</div> <div> freezing water solid;</div> <div> I cannot now drown.</div> <bR> <div> the purity</div> <div> is a facade for</div> <div> what is underneath;</div> <div> a table cloth</div> <div> over dusty grief</div> <div> and a patch</div> <div> for torn belief:</div> <div> the hidden scape</div> <div> brings no relief.</div> <bR> <div> the snow falls</div> <div> like death in sleep</div> <div> and frigid words unsaid-</div> <div> I am alone with it</div> <div> and disquiet in my head-</div> <div> I listen hard for thawing</div> <div> but resign myself to bed.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>december6 2001 time unknown</b></div> <div> Oh she waits...</div> <div> The way the woman who has missed the last bus waits.</div> <div> In expectation, constantly looking down the road</div> <div> though she knows it lies down a hill and she will not see the bus</div> <div> until the nose of it pushes past the apex.</div> <div> Oh she waits...</div> <div> The way the pregnant woman waits after the test</div> <div> and who must then wait 42 weeks more</div> <div> to meet the life inside though she dreams of it</div> <div> and loves it and cherishes it all unknown.</div> <div> Oh she waits...</div> <div> The way the girl waits and waits</div> <div> for the full bloom of womanhood that</div> <div> is so near that she is the only one who cannot see</div> <div> that she is two days away from it.</div> <div> Oh she waits...</div> <div> The way the lonely wait for love,</div> <div> with eyes closed and lips parched with longing</div> <div> to receive the kiss of the beloved</div> <div> they have been loving all along.</div> <div> Oh she waits ... but what is it she is waiting for?</div> <div> She stands upon the precipice,</div> <div> arms open and eyes closed-</div> <div> she will not jump, after all,</div> <div> She's waiting.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>december3 2001 1:35 a.m.</b></div> <div> I will never again hear that sound.</div> <div> The sweet sound,</div> <div> melodious haunting sound;</div> <div> the bitter sweet sad sound</div> <div> of the horn before dawn-</div> <div> I will never again</div> <div> be arrested in my path</div> <div> by the beauty of that </div> <div> warning,</div> <div> by the waves of moving</div> <div> sonic memory</div> <div> or the internal</div> <div> recognition that runs</div> <div> deep</div> <div> nor will that wellspring</div> <div> ever rise to the calling</div> <div> of that horn before the sun-</div> <div> Never again</div> <div> fall asleep to it's</div> <div> lowing tones...</div> <div> I will never more hear   </div> <div> the sound of the train.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>februrary7 2000 time unknown</b></div> <div> Your name, a sigh</div> <div> an autumn wind in my heart,</div> <div> carrying all our laughter</div> <div> and dreams and love and light</div> <div> like dry leaves across</div> <div> the drier landscape of this future:</div> <div> this future that was once </div> <div> bright with the promise of us</div> <div> and is now just the promise</div> <div> of me</div> <div> and you</div> <div> seperately.</div> <div> Autumn falls desperately into winter,</div> <div> the ice forming in vindictive constraints</div> <div> across the plains of what used to</div> <div> look like happiness in your eyes.</div> <div> The snow is beginning to fall,</div> <div> covering everything we used to be;</div> <div> and will the spring thaw</div> <div> find us still here at all?</div> <div> I find myself asking if</div> <div> you ever existed,</div> <div> if the pictures tell the story aright...</div> <div>      </div> <div>                        </div> <div>        <B>march15 2000 11:15 p.m.</b></div> <div> We create secret snow shapes</div> <div> to house our fragile hearts</div> <div> in softly frozen stasis;</div> <div> We freeze the moment in it's beauty,</div> <div> each instant of happiness to be preserved,</div> <div> to be relived upon our faces.</div> <bR> <div> We build a castle out of snow </div> <div> with turrets reaching towards the sky,</div> <div> for our dreaming selves to inhabit</div> <div> until we wake.</div> <bR> <div> And in the fortress we will laugh forever</div> <div> in it's icy halls, dancing wraiths of yesterday,</div> <div> until the walls themselves quiver and shake.</div> <div> Our dream lives will go on without us</div> <div> until the winter thaws into spring</div> <div> and our castle will melt into the sea-</div> <bR> <div> Our frozen hearts will defrost, glittering red</div> <div> and bleed afresh into the moistened earth.</div> <div> You'll take yours back and give mine to me</div> <div> and we'll depart from our wintry play land</div> <div> to live in the realms of summer warmth-</div> <div> But we'll recall the snow palace </div> <div> we built to house our memories.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>july10 2001 2:00 a.m.</b></div> <div> Does the dream lose it's lustre</div> <div> when brought forcibly </div> <div> into fleshly, physical planes </div> <div> of skin and bones and</div> <div> ivory in ferocious reality?</div> <div> Does the illusory flower</div> <div> wither under the pressure</div> <div> of three dimensional gravity?</div> <bR> <div> I  loved once, love's taste remains</div> <div> but my hand cupped neatly</div> <div> behind your head- my lips</div> <div> pressed to your brow-</div> <div> they do not touch </div> <div> the love I dreamt; they do not</div> <div> withstand the magnifying glass </div> <div> I hold in my trembling fingers...</div> <bR> <div> I see the details are lacking,</div> <div> a poor imitation of </div> <div> a splendid original.</div> <div> The softness of your lips</div> <div> was not the tonic I had visioned,</div> <div> but it's impact is one</div> <div> I had not foreseen.</div> <bR> <div> Who knew a single kiss with you</div> <div> could shatter the glamour in</div> <div> a spray of shimmering dew?</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>july15 2001 11:45 p.m</b></div> <div> It is in me to envy</div> <div> that enduring residue:</div> <div> that lingering scent like incense</div> <div> clinging to the nostrils...</div> <div> It is in me to envy longing,</div> <div> that devotion of energy</div> <div> to the constant care</div> <div> of untarnished memory;</div> <div> love that steeps and</div> <div> stains like wine or blood.</div> <div> It is in me, I feel it,</div> <div> it lies in me to</div> <div> harbour jealousy</div> <div> of the one who garners this:</div> <div> hidden treasure of</div> <div> heart's stilted desire,</div> <div>  that heart that never ceases </div> <div> to seek it's manifest happiness.</div> <div> O, it is in me to envy</div> <div> the loved.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> August 01</div> <div>    <B>~Under water breathing apparatus~</b></div> <bR> <div> I see a flicker, a shimmer a flash of something in the dark, but nothing to hold in your two cupped hands like a butterfly....</div> <div> The butterflies in my stomach seem to be the type to appear with or without cause and I swallow water to drown them.</div> <div> Who can say they have never thought of drowning? That frightening and fascinating possibility that hangs eerily over every body of collected water....I used to dream of it.</div> <div> Diving down, too far down to make it back to the surface and then....and then...a gasp an untimely exhalation and the air is pushed out by the rush of water into areas it was never meant to fill...I breathe in deeply the liquid and now the last bubbles of carbon dioxide and wasted oxygen flit to the surface like dancing stars; I watch them...</div> <div> The water is blood warm...or so it seems...maybe I have simply begun to cool in the depths. I can feel (even in the surreal scape of a dream) the pull of the water on my body, I don't fight it. It's gentle and calls to mind a cradle of some sort..I feel soothed...and then the edges begin to go black and I can't see the light filtering down in golden columns...I'm fading fast, but before I do....someone is calling me...I can't figure out whose voice...doesn't matter...trying to think of who it is wakes me up and I am in my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath...</div> <bR> <div> September 01</div> <div>                        ~Fortune Cookie of Doom~</div> <bR> <div> What does the fortune cookie say?</div> <div> She breaks it open, but eats half first as is her habit. The cookie is cold from the refrigerator. She chews slowly and swallows before even bothering to reach for the pink fortune peeking out like a tongue from the broken mouth of the second half. It reads: “Ignorance never settles a question.”</div> <div> Well. Isn't that succinct, obvious and totally meaningless.</div> <div> She was hoping for something to laugh at or mock…instead she finds this, this little sound byte of nothingness. She places the second cookie half in her mouth but doesn't chew it. She lets it rest upon her tongue while the sugar taste leaches out into her mouth. The cookie begins to dissolve and she sucks on it to compress it . After she swallows her cookie and the disappointment she feels with the fortune she got, she decides to have another, just to see if something good will result…she treks to the kitchen, bits of the first cookie still hidden in the crevices between her teeth. She opens the fridge and sticks her hand in the bag without looking, and clutches this second cookie, this second chance in her hand.</div> <div> Breaking it open, she repeats the whole process. Something different has occurred already. When she breaks it, instead of coming apart in two clean halves, the part containing the fortune has sheared into pieces. As she munches the first half she wonders if it will be a better fortune. She pulls the paper out carefully to keep the fragments in tact and reads: “Nature, Time and Patience are the three great physicians.” She shoves the rest of the shards in her mouth while she assimilates this. Time is the great healer everyone is always saying…she doesn’t think so herself. She thinks time simply allows the past to become covered in layer after layer of other events the way a stone becomes covered by layer after layer of silt in a lake. The pain is still there. But the silt has hidden it. Made it too hard to access. You do not have to escape what you cannot see. She ponders this. What if everyone kicked their legs through the still waters of time, would the stones be uncovered? The wounds un-bandaged? Would the lacerations inflicted upon us bleed afresh if the buffering of monotonous daily life were removed? All those meaningless moments taken from our memories and only the important, life altering, soul changing, memory searing ones remaining…imagine: to open your eyes and know that all those minutes spent washing dishes, folding laundry, sweeping, dusting, vacuuming, mindlessly consuming…all those hours are merely silt hiding the memories that made you who you are. If you could still do those things, but do them without retaining their details, what would you really think about?</div> <div> Not the clothing. Not the dust. Not the fact that you are running dangerously low on toothpaste and that your underwear has become thread bare.</div> <div> You would have freed up your mind to think of all the things that sometimes we’d rather not.</div> <div> The time we were so afraid that something bad had happened we sank to the floor and shook, unable to do anything but wait until either our nameless fears were named and made real or banished as false.</div> <div> And we would wonder: had that moment never occurred would I be so careful about making sure of this that and the other every single time I ______fill in the blank here______? Probably not.</div> <div> We would have the time to see clearly the very instant in which we changed, even in what may seem to others to be imperceptible ways, that single vertex in which our selves altered.</div> <div> Who would want to remember those things?</div> <div> Not she. She wants another fortune cookie. “Tomorrow”, she tells herself, “tomorrow”.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>September 01</I></div> <div>                              <B> ~Allergies~</b></div> <bR> <div> A golden cloud, a golden swirl through the openness....the pollen falls like fairy dust, seeking to create new life...but there isn't anything here to pollinate.</div> <div> My head is empty. The halls have been abandoned like the dance at stonehenge...I wake disordered and disoriented, my head suddenly cleared of the dreadful pain that had been threatening to split my cranium down the frontispiece like a melon. I am trying to think, but all my thoughts have been obliterated by the pain that presided for the last 26 hours. I have only the husk, and a whisper carried on the pollen ripe breeze.</div> <div> I think of all the things I have said must be accomplished...and the flash of them is like the brief shine of sun on the tail of a fish flipping out of the water momentarily and then slipping back into the deep. I cannot say whether I saw it or not, whether I am  proved right about the life beneath the surface or hallucinating (as I am prone to do). I wish the fish would allow it's self to be caught. I have only my two hands to do the catching. Will the sparkling scales cut my fingers when I grasp at it's sleek body?</div> <div> The pollen falls around me like a veil and sheets on the updrafts of warm air...it flows with the air currents the way Ophelia's flower petals thrown into the creek flow downstream....I hold out my hands to catch the tiny clinging packages of encrypted life...but my fingers come away with nothing and I am left with the feeling of those barbed particles lining my throat and lungs...I am tortured by their presence even as I could not contain them in my outstretched hands. They irritate my tissues, make my lungs inflamed, my throat constrict...Is this what I asked for? To have the dream, but to have it as a curse imbedded within me? I'm allergic...</div> <div> To the pollen...to the dreams I dreamed when I was a child in shafts of light and swirling dust motes. I'm allergic...to me.</div> <bR> <div> <I>October 6-01</I></div> <div>                             <B> ~The Break Up~</b></div> <bR> <div> I’m breaking up with you…</div> <div> Those have to be the single most absurd words he had ever spoken, and all she could say was ‘Okay’.</div> <div> She had difficulty feeling anything about this, except perhaps amusement at the strangeness of his proclamation. Strangeness and suddenness. Well, maybe not so sudden considering that 2 2/3 years had passed since their meeting. It seems so much longer, so much has happened to them both. But she just smiles, bemused and unable to figure out if he is serious or in jest…But honestly, breaking up?</div> <div> She waits until he has hung up to laugh out loud. How can he break up with her when they were never together? Not even when they were together were they together.</div> <div> I’m breaking up with you…</div> <div> She doesn’t mind at all. Maybe it hurts him to see that she doesn’t care in the least whether he goes or stays. She remembers when her first, last and only real boyfriend broke up with her on that strange Monday--she said ‘Okay’ then as well.</div> <div> Leaving is so much easier when it isn’t your decision, this is what she has learned. So she says okay and  reciprocates when he says “Have a nice life or whatever”. She is kind of relieved to be free of him, of his clinging chemicals, his ivy-like scent. She knows they had nothing to really bind them to one another except her pity and his stubborn will to keep her. She has yet to see if he will really do it this time. </div> <div> I’m breaking up with you…</div> <div> She had an urge, when she first realized what he was saying, to say ‘thank you’. He doesn’t understand her and he never will. He doesn’t even understand himself. He was a child then and he is a child now. She wants to hug him and look him in his muddy green eyes and say ‘Thank you’.  He has no idea how much it means to her that he has said it and said it calmly and without fuss and that there is nothing to be exchanged and nothing to keep him from going and never looking back. She wonders if he is more upset than he seemed upon his exit, but shakes it off because it is none of her concern, remember?</div> <div> I’m breaking up with you…</div> <div> She has to give it to him. He has a gift for timing. In just a short while she will be moving. She has one less person to apprise of her new location whenever that happens. She also has begun to dislike him anyway. In  the way that people who work at restaurants begin to hate the food they serve everyday.</div> <div> She knows the way he laughs, the way he gets angry,  the way he screams and shouts in his native tongue, the way he closes his eyes sometimes while taking a drag off a cigarette…she knows too much about him, and at the same time, not enough to ever feel connected to him. And she knows that he knows so much about her mannerisms and daily habits and vocal tip-offs to her emotional state, but that he also doesn’t know anything about her mind. Even with all the time he spent reading her diary. Bastard.</div> <div> I’m breaking up with you…</div> <div> It’s the sweetest thing he’s said to her in a long time, the most meaningful, the thing she wanted most lately. Not ‘I love you’. Not ‘I care about you’.</div> <div> I’m breaking up with you.</div> <div> In her heart, she smiles and recalls the things she loved about him when she did love him, this will certainly go on the list. In her heart she whispers: “Thanks man. I mean that.” </div> <div> <IMG SRC="05ec8960.jpg" border=0 width="200" height="150" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> <div> Where ever you are.....this is for you.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> 11-05-02</div> <div> Scanning the skies</div> <div>  For a glimpse of brightness </div> <div> A moment of clarity and</div> <div>  The feel of you; </div> <div> I will watch the stars falling </div> <div> From the heavens</div> <div>  And wonder if you've Made a wish...</div> <div>  </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id34.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Daveyfied Nation"><U>Davey-fied  Nation</U></A></div> </td> </tr></table></body>