then another one bite[’]s the dust
i love getting
to a reminder that i
have this body shaping
to form. i only hope. you have
not bothered to believe forever.
i forgo(e)t. time
before we arrived,
i stood up. this t(w)(o)o.
counting became how days
went by without participate. require.
what if there was only one possible?
when? the call. dis-
ruptures. we stay moving
in a cement government. mold.
again. i refroze, literally. stopped.
lies fell like water. falls. and i was all
ready. to drown because we never felt?
the scar. of your name is risen
on layers. of skin i left. long. ago.
i’ve got THICK SKIN, and an ELASTIC HEART. but your(‘re) blade, it might be TOO SHARP.
outline this. (expression)
i moved inside. midnight. like touching: i…
walked and resided to find roaming. that
discovery… that this physical try
incapably accommodates my… what…
do you know anyone… who pushed… so… hard…
never learned to walk. i saturate. drift.
my memories born within. crystal shards.
broken, sharp outline. you fold to resist.
making shapes. we enlighten reflection.
seasonal turns. of what i must produce:
eliminate need. cut. out. injection.
like you can’t get beyond. a broken noose:
i stopped. telling. effort to make… aware.
gasping for words. the way humans breathe. air.
To cheer me up during a somewhat solemn period, I was blessed to have a companion accompany me yesterday to #poembomb New York City. This entailed copying some book pages and scampering around Manhattan to share some of the words that have held my bones together over the years.
We swooped through subway stations; around the east and west village; down to Tribeca and back uptown. I’ve ranted in the past that being heard is more enticing than being published. Yesterday, I’m pretty sure I was heard; at least by a handful of my fellow few million inhabitants roaming around this island. And this is just the beginning, we’re going to carry-on with the #poembomb antics here forward.
Being in this transitional in-between job period is super eye-opening. I’m learning a lot about myself. It’s wild being a balanced Writer. Balanced, to me, means I can write quarterly commentary for Chiefs on Wall Street in between short story / novel / poetry-ville… and also speeches for top politicians and presidents of boards.
It’s bizarre that the fact that I dabble in both professional and raw words intimidates some job prospects. It’s hard for a small crowd of creatures to accept that, yes, while I do enjoy a bite-your-face line most of the time – I can also blow dry my hair straight and be as conservative as is required to deliver a particular barrel of messages.
At the end of the day, to me, personally – it makes more sense to support myself writing for a business. This is a clearly defined requirement. My job is consultant, I’m told what’s needed to be written – I produce. Creatively, my process doesn’t work this way. Creatively… I never know how I’ll process a day. But one thing stands strong and true, I’ll always express myself in my own time, however I choose.
Interestingly, this makes me risky according to some places of work. Simply because, most organizations aren’t used to employing someone capable of satisfying such drastically different sides… I think that makes me an Entrepreneur.
Back to job applying, book writing and poem bombing. Praise Goddess for the life I live. Regardless of how I sook… I never lose site of how lucky I really, really am.
every fist. unidentifiable.
i let hands grab this nothing that ever
attempted to act like we were try-able.
my permanent gift is accept never.
i mean. please. hush. cut. outside. solution. Continue reading
i once wove a web that tangled my feet.
stories and fiction for feelings on me.
never before had i tasted deceit.
you said you were sorry. i disagree.
island hide isolation. your new life.
three years deep. i’m done hollowing inside.
and you’ll never mention your 10-year wife,
after i collapsed, how could i divide?
clouds came finally, encasing only. truth.
do you know how long that i could not see?
corruption of lost devouring youth,
no thought toward what being in love should be.
sweet hindsight brings grace of being set free.
i lit that piece of life, ancient debris.