Saturday, January 30, 2010

On Cleaning

I've had a real urge to purge lately. On the surface I think I seem somewhat organized; I have a small apartment and it really makes it necessary to put things away. But I know there is lots of crap hidden in closets and corners in nice Ikea patterned boxes that I need to get to.

I always have the same problem when I deep clean-where to start? I like to use the "economy of movement" approach to everything (probably from spending so much time in a kitchen) but in this case, with so many goals I want to accomplish I'm getting bogged down in the details. No surprise.

In my planning of the big purge, I've also decided to rearrange my furniture. This will require me to unload my china cabinet. I don't know why I have the damn thing. Well, I do, its an antique and was my first purchase at an auction. Its a Hepplewhite style, and its great for compact spaces. I guess what I really mean is I don't know why I keep what's in it.

I have a large collection of china and crystal that I never use, and probably never will. Back in my early twenties when I was nurturing a deep urge to nest, I bought all these pieces in hopes to be ready for the "big day". I had visions of living in an old two and a half story house that still had a creaky dumbwaiter. I would throw fabulous dinner parties and use my simple, but elegant white ware to serve on.


Many years later, I often toy with parting with all of it (but for the wine glasses, which are necessary to life). Then a friend will come over and I will pull out the teapot, and she will gasp at its beauty, and I will feel all Martha Stewartlike and competent. So, I guess I have to keep that.  And the soup terrine is so lovely-a shame to let it go. Lets not mention how the service all fits together so when you look down at you see a subtly blooming flower. Sigh. I'm never going to get rid of it. I know it. I'll be 80 living in my apartment with all my books and china looming around me. But it will all look fabulous!

So there is art to hang, furniture to move, silk pillows to lay out in carefully orchestrated patterns. I must get to it. It's important to complete this constructed reality so I feel ready to face all the crap yet to come.

On Squirrels

an anonymous person once told me that men are like squirrels.
sometimes, when they find the best nuts
the most perfect nuts
they decide they are too lovely to eat
and hide them away for a later day.

but keeping them hidden becomes diffiicult
and they wonder, is the nut still as lovely?
so they go back, dig it up, inspect it
savour its presence for a short while
and then bury it again.

for knowing the nut is there
and exists
even buried deep in the earth
is comfort enough.

I have two squirrels. Two men who have buried me away.
Occassionally they return and dig me up
tell me how much i was (am) loved
how they wished they had enjoyed me when they could

but now, its just too difficult
the twists and turns of life has left the consumption of nuts
from long ago

but, because i have a weakness for squirrels
when the earth above me starts to move
and i know they have come to dig me up
i always

seem to answer them
to show them what they missed
to let them taste the sweet meat of me.

and so the earth above me rustles now
and i feel the anticipation of
getting only the best of someone
for a short time
i think i'm getting to the point
where being alone
is better than a short time
with even the best of the squirrels

I write this today to remind myself later. I write this today to remind myself later.
We are in the midst of change my girl.
And someone out there wants you forever.
And the short term is not a long term solution.
I just want to be aware this time.
I just want to be awake
not in a sleepy fog of a long rest under a deep soil.

Sunday, January 24, 2010


I've been silent for a long while now
rejecting the need to speak

but theres more to say

and I feel weak

the stuffing motion
the avoidance
i guess i've become immune to it

somehow, somewhere

the voice inside me has pushed up
bursting pores with want to be heard

this will be difficult

i'm not sure how to approach it

this will be difficult

This is the sixth year of blood. I promised myself this would be all. This year I would go back and recapture everything I had lost.

I lied.

I think I have lied a lot for a long time. and as every piece of me, of that lie gets rooted away i come to the realization that some work has to be done here.

i say I don't know who I am anymore, but I wonder if I ever knew?

Like she said: I learned to cope at eight. Eight. And that coping has become and intricate web of illusion reflecting light from places too dark to explore.

Did I ever really have a chance Susan? Can I fix this now?

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Revelation 1

And then I realized:

The snake charmer was just a man.

He sought their adoration-
and revelled in their wonderment
of his charm
and its power.

When needed
He collected followers-
whom, entranced
would justify Him

all wide-eyed,
They would be charmed by his old tune-

Together, they could share regurgitations of old thoughts-
brought forth by new tongues
couched "just so" by an old master
who hides his book with
well worn pages.

Yes, with his broken down flute
he could play his same old tune,
weave tales of woe and misunderstanding
always being heard,
never having to listen.

And the song would repeat-
and the song would repeat
and the hips of men and women alike
would sway to the beat-
and their hands and hearts would open
pouring forth the gifts of feeling
he lived on-
he needed to live-

and all would be good
and all would be well
and all would be new
and all would be fresh
and all would be fraught with skin tingling emotion-

Until of course,
one figured out the illusion.

One would always figure out the illusion.

when deciphering the trick and its workings-
Perhaps pushing back at the push forward-
White skin turning slightly jaundiced in the questioning light-

Once perfect imperfection
becoming tight,
and slightly more

When the one in the crowd became too close
to seeing the truth of it all-
The fallible, weak, unromantic,
vulnerable, ugly, stinking
yes, normalcy,
of it all-

The snake charmer would perform his final act.

He unleashed the poisons of self doubt upon their skin,
Charm turning to acid and vitriol-
as unverbalized weaknesses spewed forth in an evidential manner,
each perceived betrayal documented.
Each "perfect" imperfection catalogued.

Once whispered words-
refracted, reflected-
in the dulling shine of his instrument-
and twisted into righteousness.

And those who remain?
They'd become altered versions of his same drawing need.
some far into the distance, some just on the periphery-
most lost to the charms forever.

So now,
all torn down.
He sets up for a new crowd.
Those becoming too close
well pushed away,
eventually, fresh pink skin basks in the light.

And it becomes of Him again-
He feels new again
All is well again
Until unwell-

Yes, those who have seen it
now have older eyes-
are not surprised-
and temper all with vision
that gets astoundingly better each day.

The snake charmer is just a man.

Monday, August 3, 2009


Just for this moment
i will follow the point of my compass

Though the wind whispers West-
and that crack in the path-
it breaks Easterly...

And what of the South?
the South is what He always was,
(just with a better disguise....)

for now,
I think
I'll just go north.

Ignore the wind..

Step o'er the crack-

close my eyes-

Friday, February 20, 2009

remember this

remember this moment
and those words
bitter on the tongue.

remember the disadvantage
wonder if you should have
seen it coming.

remember how you picked up
the scattered remnants of your
feelings put bare
over there
spread out in pieces on the floor now

a puzzle abandoned
left undone

wonder if it was by design
a false kindness
a beingtakenadvantageof
a convenientyouwereherethanks

a laughbehindthebackofsorts

what was the meaning?

did Kenneth have the frequency?

where were you when it happened?

And why are you blamed for it now?

Friday, January 16, 2009

the answer to your question

I guess,
I guess I thought
there would be real conversation
not a badly hidden tease or a
taunt with twisted tongue

but a genuine interest
a care what i thought of
you know, some genuine interest
like it was before

and I suppose, naively,
I thought there was a basis
for a real and meaningful feeling-
and a hope for something more...

ah, but i'm a little flawed, aren't I?
a little not perfect
but a really good subject
for this game of cat a mouse we're in.

a little too tangible
a mite unconventionally conventional
couldn't sit me at the cool kids table
you know, where all the cut outs live?

but you can pull me out when you need me,
yeah, i'll be here when you need me...
and I won't dare call attention
to our one sided arrangement.

I will be your convenient inconvenience
your puppet; pull my string
I will do the dance for you
and do it with a smile.

for awhile.

but in the end, there will be nothing left.
i will say this now, because i see it
there will be nothing left
and i suspect you won't even miss it.