less than (24 hours)
i explained. change.
like fall. collapsed says
foolish history cannot
sustain this real love.
past habit hits and inane
tidbits. useless chips
digging. with sharp nail
scratch. this surface
funnels. flashes. recede.
throw what you can’t hold.
time. never. it counted to me.
how we keep (stay)
you see. when he
and i combine it
is like tidal wave
pulling and pushing
and grabbing and
wet. i stay. remain
starts to be a style.
my midtown hips
his brooklyn hits;
when we are t(w)o-
gether. gathering rise
and sets. methods
i keep him. sun up,
sun down. cyclic
circle moving each
time he slaps in-
side with just me.
we stay. private.
with one. remaining.
“Got some dirt on my shoulder, could you brush it off for me?”
potential of possibility
he came and went. this style. of existence.
not knowing my stance that… everyone leaves.
i stopped my heart before it could commence;
rejecting this world for what i believe.
if he sees one truth, then let it be me.
his pieces snapped in. my kaleidoscope
gaze. he stared into me. what does he see?
endeavoring to mask my faith. my hope…
in my headspace walls, none of it matters.
i have rainbows of ways to deal and cope;
perceiving days as chaos and chatter.
looking around to only see absent.
with claws still dug in that some things are meant.
Namaste blog tribe
Most of our loyal cult affiliates are aware that my birthday never goes for only one day. It usually ebbs and flows for a week-ish and I spend the month of September shouting out the whole being born concept. I’ve always just felt if there’s one thing to celebrate, it’s your birthday.
Meanwhile, I’ve developed this affinity for bottle popping. You see, if you’re a feisty female ready to go out whenever, New York City club promoters take notice. That said, I’ve recently surrounded myself with a handful of Manhattan’s finest hailing from Italy to Brooklyn and a few spots in between.
There’s something enthralling about your phone sporadically igniting seven days a week with messages like, “Le Souk tonight? 11pm walk in. Bottles all night.” Such messages are often accompanied by a secret password you tell the doorman to skip the line and walk right inside.
It’s a bit pimped, really. (more…)
Another birthday is upon us blog family! I’m hiding in the country with my folks – writing stories, laying low. Thinking about this southern gentleman that doesn’t seem to leave my thoughts.
I’ve had the most wonderful day. I’ve been lying in the grass, writing poems, interacting with tribal members worldwide.
I must say, out of all the countries and continents that I was blessed to receive birthday love from… nothing beats the call from one of my favorite Aussie family members/soulmates which concluded with, “HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY!”
My smile stretched and heart ached.
Today, I spent my birthday with my parents and learned a new story. When my parents told my father’s father, Papa, that they named me Gretchen – he was very excited.
“I always wanted to name one of my children Gretchen, my wife wouldn’t let me.”
Before I left Australia, on my way back to New York City, my Papa delivered messages through other mediums. I loved hearing from him again today. Regardless of being born during his life, he passed away before I ever physically reached him. Every trace of connection between the two of us is sacred.
I am so elated to be in the country. The stars pop brighter, the moon is bigger, the world gets quieter – thoughts become more clear.
I’m going to spend the next few days lying in the sun, spinning words. Year 36, here I come.