Geography of Light: An Abecedarian
What if I'm not who I think? If I table concerns, repress my thoughts, over-manage my voice, never come back? Have I deleted the most ridiculous questions yet? I try to drop them but can't shock away the static cling. I shake and they adhere. That's anxiety.
Kay Ryan writes of rivers as ribbons. I zoom in and step into the water's edge, an expanse of blue grey, a cloudy day. The wet sand braiding, the boats sailing, the fretting dissipating when the clouds roll back and expose the moon. The breath out in a long whooooo. I feel my man's smile. That's beauty.
Alphabetizing for order when the hugs are happy, the cats are well-fed, and the kitchen is clean. When this life, today, is treasure without tragedy. Don't take it all so seriously! Relax and just be silly. I can't stop laughing, lady! Disruption amid peace and happiness can be a portrait of comedy.
Dilute the stress with three parts water... This is the paragraph I do not write. This is the dream I do not remember. This is the curtain hiding broken windows, throes of woes, knots, blows--none of that anymore. Just watch where you step on the floor. Wake me up later. I'm not afraid of the dark. I have been into the dark. Just trust me. Just let me avoid the darkness.
Euphoria means everything connects no spaces graces taking places with no structure needed no orders heeded all ideas have seeded and are growing without rows and overgrowing overflowing all of us knowing the fleeting beating of the rush before the crush and gush of beauty connection trust perfection even illusion profusion enchantments charges forces barging in of course the source is euphoria.
Please don't say anymore. If I could only just sit down. Let me see if I have one. Can you wait? Let me rest a minute. Is there water? How long until the quiet? Would you tell me the words? Please say it. I can't take another second. I can't look. Maybe later. Please leave me. It's just this fragility.
Thank you for calling my name. I appreciate the honesty. I respect the need for stability. I trust this will work beautifully. Thank you for letting me and for forgiving me. Thank you rivers braiding, thank you, sunlight fading. Thank you for pointing out confusion, though answers still evade me, curtained by delusions. I'm grateful even for platitudes. Yes, happiness is gratitude.
Thank you for listening, for the opportunity. It's an honor to have you visiting. Yours, with humility--
I'm washing, combing my hair. I hear a yelp in the distance, forget it in an instant. I hum along to the dissonance. No street cred for my carelessness, the burning off of innocence.
Make it fairer. Know the boundaries. See the flaws. If laws depend, are they laws? Hold ethics stamped with stubbornness. Not repentance but consequence. Is it real for all of us? Is there really justice?
One lane: the other driver scowls, a coldness creeping. I defer in sympathy. I feel you but don't know you, don't know what you're going through. Maybe your beloved won't talk to you. Maybe an illness wears on you. You lash out rather than chance more pain. I've played that game. That's why I give you kindness.
Lolling, lounging, rolling, scrolling... let me lie around a while... embrace the space for laziness.
I can't tell what that is. It's not clear or well-lighted. I don't know what's inside it. It's a place, a voice, a worldview, a choice, a lifestyle, a being, a web page you're seeing, it's something in the future--it's a mystery.
Alight in the aquarium, fish firework into terrariums, with underwater balloon dogs tugging at historians. Bubbles form in paisley; clam shells break into applause! The cash drawer squeezes oranges, the otters' paws hide lozenges, the kelp sings to the barnacles, the broom pastes the nonsensical.
I reach for authenticity and worry on my sentimentality. It's all just vulnerability. I toggle strength and shame. I want you to know my name, but without my promotion; I'm near grandeur and oblivion. I delete three quarters, then half of what's left; it's all constructed, but it's my best at openness.
I could press you, I could try you, I won't forget you or deny you. You came all the way down here, waiting your turn. Thank you for your patience.
(coming soon: q.r.s.t.u.v.w.x.y.z.)
A Plurality of Plants
clear skies at night
dancing to the tv
my cats, luna y sola
old pictures of old trains
pens and pencils
singing singing singing singing singing
strong female role models
the pacific ocean
the world, the universe
when litter is picked up