Iceberg Wedding 04.5.014

There is so much cold out there.
Thank god we've found one another.

Do you believe in luck?  No,
no I do not.  Do you

believe in coincidence?  Do you
believe we've come together

by chance?  No, my love,
I do not.  I do not.

Darling, I've waited countless nights
to be by your side.  Love, I've

nullified innumerable days
in search of your hand:

in mine, yours will always stay warm.
In time, you were by my side, and

I would not call it luck, no--
I would not chalk it up to chance.

16.10.019

I want you to see me naked.

Not for lust, but for honesty; to see and be also seen, to be human.

For we've no God-- nor any need-- and

Nothing can be unless perceived:

The serpent's self-voiding devoury, precluding all reality, necessitates a witness;

See me fully, or I will not Be.

16.05.019

Spacetime superimposition of flesh and dotmatrix formation

Speeding into the sky, I was uptaken, breezing by

Lands, other humans and their streetsigns

26.01.019

How to disappear completely.

Become ugly, take off your lower jaw, keep trying to dig things from your face while never hydrating sufficiently. Keep the blisters coming.

Need so much that you are shunned, that the greedy, desperate dark light in your eyes forces them to maintain a distance.

Detach yourself from electronic communications. If you are not pathologically accessible, you will not be accessed.

Find a special tree. Learn its crooks and grooves, its hidden spots, the upper crown. Practice becoming the limbs, feel the flow of glucose-laden lifeblood, sway as the winds comb their way through; observe. Do not observe too intensely or your observance will be felt.

08.01.020

Schooling taught or fostered in me a need to detect and recognize patterns; analyze. It took away the feeling, the gentleness, the human need to get lost in and carried away by a story. We had to smash beautiful things and pick them apart to find their atomic nature, the singular key to beauty, what exactly it was that made us feel. There was no emphasis on the feeling.

Recognizing incongruencies in patterns today gives rise to indignance and anger, and-- because of traumas and life lessons (in kindergarten, I once killed a guinea pig with malice flickering in my veins and severe guilt and emptiness following after), I have also learned to subvert anger into sadness, turning it in upon myself so as to not externalize harm.

I am now poised to let anger go when it does not serve me. I am willing to learn to feel it, and let it pass, without holding on to it. It is acid eroding my organs, voltage shorting out my synapses, hot metal crisping my flesh. I have ground away too many teeth, my jaw now misaligned (that may be from ten years of too much serotonin and not enough queering of the self: where is my gentleness, where is my vulnerability, where did I leave the child who didn't need to understand everything first, and quickly, and well-- where is the kid who was terrified to leave his mom and dad, where's the kid who could cry, who WOULD cry, where have my tears gone).

I learned to survive. I learned how to perform, to be not myself, to recognize and reproduce patterns for my then, current, and someday foreman-- I got rid of the feeling, and I want it back. And I've been made a weapon; I've been turned vitriolic, volatile, yet I retain that atomos-self; I have contained within me, all this time, the knowledge to rebuild.

Green House 28.02.020

“...cyanide makes the most beautiful ink (blue)”
something in those words had felt like medicine—
and medicine is oft bitter, or perhaps oversaccharine—

so you went and found yourself a plant scientist,
deadheat of the highdesert,
gardening in March and

oooh, it all looks so nice.
took my lifedream and ran with it;
another dream of mine, vaporous
in the tepid-stillness-to-chill of the highdesert

night,

a dream of Mine he built for You:
new lovegrove gloamover,
fire metal water.

yet still I step inside closed eyes
plucking from the dark in the back
that core, kernel readied for
monsoondownpour, and

siiigh, oasis intaking—
my stay [brief and] fleeting,

“I leave today.”

Something 13.04.024

 I can remember walking somewhere—

Very likely, it was at work, as I am hardly anywhere else while out in the world—

And seeing two men. A couple. 

I could not have known what one was saying to the other, for

(As always)

They were far from me. 

But, as I watched, one reached out with his left hand

And, lovingly, ran it round his partner’s back in serial, small ellipses. 

All the reassurance, comfort, a being could need

In this swiftly-darkening world.