the Bohemian by the sea

does it matter that you can feel the warmth of the sunlight on your shoulders, the salty sea breeze in your hair, and at the same time, see the storm clouds up ahead?

does it matter that the sea holds immense sadness in its depths, and yet at the same time reflects the joy of the sun in the glinting rhythm of waves?

do these things matter? do they have a place in business? in finance? amongst skyscrapers? alongside ships that carry cargo from one place to the next?

can someone say that it is okay to honor the new and mourn the lost all in the same moment? all in the same day. can someone shout this from the rooftops and whisper it in the shadows? instead of this. this silence. this, unspoken name. this covering up with words of new.

can someone tell the masses, “it is okay to not be okay on this day.” or even the next.

it is o.k.

it is okay.

it is ok to not live in the binary. in the ‘either or’ but to let things co-exist, mash, intertwine. mix.

binary is not how it always is anyways.

it’s not how it ever was.

bag of broken glass

heart, body, mind, soul

become daylight stars, seaglass in the sea of the sky

whirligig constellations shown through by the sun, stained glass reflections

light rose petaled paths for the wayward wonderer, fallen soldier, weary worker

spring colored perfumes of pressed flowers, blue skies, translucent melodies, floating dandielion messengers of feathered friendships. weathered friendships.

bag of broken glass.

[daily occurrence] sun, come out to see

blue pencil shaving sky, white crayon shaving clouds, the sun like a harvest moon

a paint brush of rose petals dipped into the calligraphy of the sea

metallic ripples of lulla-byes in baby elephant pinks, chalky blueberry blues

little boats that wave goodbye

stillness of heart, calmness of soul

a peace with the cadence of a breath

come again to-morrow where we will say

good morrow

fish bowl passenger

blown glass figurine, translucent, pristine

chin perched on elbow perched on knee, subway car seat

blown glass figurine, filled with waves like saltwater tears

she lets the waves crash up inside of her, jolting train threatening to shatter her

she holds her ground, however fast it moves beneath her

saltwater tears threatening their way up out of her, passing eyelid, passing eyeball, big salty gumdrops tumbling, iron-fisted

her heart the only bouey out to sea

glass like ice, heart like sun

she melts and the whole ocean breaks open like yolk that’s lost its captor, like sunlight over mountains, like grace like rain

flooding waters cleanse heart mind and soul

currents carry her to snow capped mountains and hot spring wells

she is bird, she is fish, she is free

Take a walk on the wild side

1. Little girl, stroller, chubby cheeks, bunny hood.

2. Black cloth, slow shadow, head bowed, face dark, skinny ankles, dirt crusts.

3. Sun-lit trees, out-stretched branches, lime green leaves.

3. Bird cages, captured song, oppression-or-freedom, modernity-or-the-ancients.

4. Footbridge, light, sounded steps, rainbow reflections, faded-honey warm glow.

5. Train.

 

a [first] love

sept 22

the morning was dawning. i had fallen asleep with heartache on my lips. i looked across and she was here again, she looked cute in my pajamas and the waking sun cast her in a soft light.

she bent and unbent herself as if she were a folding chair, and she stroked my arm with her finger.

the clothes were hanging up in the window, drying from the night before, framing the hills like curtains onto the world’s stage.

i looked back to her finger still stroking my arm, she opened up her mind to speak and thought,

“You know, you’re beautiful -”

i had never heard her think that before, the infant sun rays bathed themselves against the window panes in light of my awe.

“You know, you’re beautiful -. There’s no one else like you in the world. Your heart beats to a different drum… I think… you could try embracing it.”

dec 12

IMG_20141212_194516

and so i tried.

[self-love]

Nov.

I imagine us standing over one another like transparencies, silhouettes projected onto the same spot, separated by t.i.m.e. The ocean below, the same though slowly disappearing. Wind blowing in our hair. Both gone in an instant when the light turns on.

I walk along the stone paths and wonder if we’ve ever stepped on the same cracks. If I ever retraced your steps. If you ever plotted mine.

Did we glance upon the same tree, the thousand year sunlight poking its translucent finger-rays through different kaleidoscope leaves? I looked through my eyes, but felt as if I could have been seeing through yours.

my new place, your old. growing ever further apart in time, yet ever closer in s.o.u.l.

living with the same people in different pockets of time.

same and different. we are.

___

May.

the truth is. i’ve forgotten about you.

a figment of the past. of childhood.

have I outgrown your memories like I’ve outgrown my shoes?

have I traded you for something new?

in memory, I cannot find you.

___

Oct.

i took the time to remember you today. to remember what i could. it felt important to record in case i lose more of it as time goes on.

all the words i remember you saying…none of them really warm. but all the things i remember you doing, filled with a fire called love. and i cried because i saw a part of m.y.s.e.l.f.