today i open my eyes and rise to another day. it’s a special day and i am grateful. so many hours, so many days have come and gone. i am grateful for that too. for in that time frame i have become a little wiser or at least better able to survive. i worry that in the process of survival i will forget to dream. you have always cradled my dreams alameda street. today is extra special with Our Lady Queen of Angels hosting all of the believers who also survive in any way they can. i can afford some day-dreaming and wasting of time, but those days are slowly withering away, eroding like the bricks on your side my Lady. with faith you were risen and from these rocks and clay; from faith i was allowed to be born, but a different path had to be followed so that i might be here right now. had a more popular road been chosen for me, i would not be here with you fair Queen. now in your smog and your electric heat and rules and stop lights, i will faithfully rise again tomorrow and spill out unto the alameda once more.
Poetry
gravity
gravity bends light
punishes it
forces the very substance of life
within it and without
so here i sit
i am alone amongst a sea of people
whose thoughts and beats in their heart
are dark and unbent
untouched by fire or lightning bolt
there is no gravity
that bends them to action
to feel the orgasmic scorch
of that flicker from the God
their punishment is different
they are free
nothing bends them
nothing molds them
not a thought
or a ray of golden light
wrought by guidance
free to die in the breeze
in the forest of artificial sight
unbent
untouched
unharnessed by love
gravity pulls me
from the forest of them
from the shore of that sea
gravity tugs me
and when she angers
catapults me into a place
of where light brands
the cells in my blood
so i can express
to the daughters of fire
in the mid of night
where there are no numbers
a star is trillions of steps from me
i have been walking forever
and have not left this field of flesh
and in so being captive here
gravity
becomes the father of my children
tends to our walking
steadily toward the goddess
the star
her name is faith
and i am still
courted by the sea
sermon
love analysis walk not today think no high loss death paleness cold worlds space out red rock left alone to live and go the cross road upside down fire take soul nourish climb to fall don’t go too field desert kill black thorny the rain dog to the river frustrated mouse to not turn around in blue the cheek has fallen blazing hades in the snow afar Tibet monkey fog tonight a kiss the fall into the mind around Saturn in the vision pantheon neon grey the gross frog lady bird dance in the buffalo crawl to the address in the summer soot the rot of hot music lung ruby in life around thorny ring to the kiss of the foot how the pod can canker the brain storm drain courage of stripe pink to stop not to yield asunder for flat and revolver to plead the clowns of agony of flower pause to burn the heart in line of love
on baker street
at an angle the sun slides between her bones
to chase out the cold ghosts of dawn
who with sleep crusted auras
float to the mills of time when we were queens
of industries that required tough skins
and a hunger to chase some pursuit of happiness
as our kings fought the windmills of tyranny
on the shores of the land of Joan and Henry
and in the moments of dying star blaze
the queens gracefully dance into the old river of life
to reset a past that doesn’t stay put
flickering light
no space to contain this fear without the barriers it spills over to all the sides no phosphorescent mother there to catch no father to teach the scintillant way in the dark vulnerable to clichés and warnings and the debility of all that is to come and to suffer all that has passed by in the backwards of time to stoop over rotten corpses writhing in the dark of their own making in the tallest buildings to the bottom of the last sewer there i am locked away un-oxygenated still passing through the underground to someday explode into a frozen river of life that is encrypted with the secrets that have lost the wonder on the back of one man
dysmorphic algorithm
sometimes in life things happen to the person that makes them hate God.
sometimes one person who knows it all will meet the person who hates God.
the knowledgeable person will tell the hateful person that they are not doing things right in the eyes of the Lord. in the knowledgeable person’s mind, the hateful person’s life is fucked up because the person is hateful.
sometimes the knowledgeable person does not know what the hateful person can and can’t do. and doesn’t bother to ask, because they know it all.
sometimes knowledgeable people don’t understand that some hateful people are handed a bad package that takes a life time to process.
sometimes the self-righteousness of one person will not allow them to see that the hateful person can’t serve God the way the self-righteous person wants them to.
sometimes the hateful person will turn the world away because they are ashamed by their inability to serve the way the self- righteous person wants them to.
sometimes neither person stops to pray.
bc
before the waters rose
the sands blew
and the mountains became a womb
the sun stars moon
saw your face
marveling at God
for His foundation
in the eye of perpetuity
her
the fat of the land has dried into grime
mere clots of spit and mire
under her instant foot in the vomit of the day
the sour milkiness of death’s redolence at night
grabbing at the air grabbing at the sights of
those who have always been there and those
who are to come
shifting in the seas of traffic lights
half-moon eyes bloody in the tides
of discarded discontent
the wind howls on the sills of justice
kissing painfully the wounds on her hand
as puckered resentful coins hiss at her disposition
the wheels of the gods grind on
and her island there waits
the laughing air and the scornful heat
injures her every pore; her pancaked gowns threadbare
smiling at the visions only seen by those who know
the devil and the angels roaming up and down the hill of somber perfection
host to condemnation of heavy hearted posts
vigilant to nothing
in the bell jars of our age
nothing ferments nothing grows
the heart in her breaks the barrier
knowing that she will see some light
the golden days have passed onto a future
waiting there like cats
old castles for her flowers and her stars
beauty melting unto asphalt
a stairway opens up with gems of cardboard
sprigs of wasted love litter her alcove
she lays her head to rest
suikaddish
do black holes exist or are they something i read about in a comic book? are those beautiful pictures of nebulas shaped like crabs and other creatures that i see in the science magazines real? how can i know for sure that this very night i am walking home? how can i know for sure that i am walking back to a home and that i will get there? can a black hole, if it is real snatch me up? would it think i am important? does it matter what religion scientists are? does it matter what i believe? does God want me? do i want God to want me? if i give and give and give will it make a difference? is it better to take and take and take? is my smile enough to save a dying life? my own? if i am sad is it bad? am i broken in an unfixable way? can i benefit from anything modern? am i too late for anything old? did i ever make love? do i have control over any war? do i have control over any deficit? do i reward bad and punish good? if i reward bad on earth and punish good on earth, will the bad go to hell and the good to heaven? why can i not explain what i know? is that bad? is dreaming bad? did Gabriel pinch my lips together? or did i just get punched on the mouth? should i talk? should i judge? would that make me a better person? am i compassionate? is there a time and a place for everything? what did my mother raise? did she have a hand at molding me? why do i like what i like? why do i like what i don’t like anyway? do i contribute to my perdition? am i good? does anyone think of me? do you?
Haiku for Nina
Priestess of the notes
the strongest Goddess i know
voice delivered truth
words less spoken 