The time between collision and capsizing

There is something very scary

about imagining a life without flaw,

as if insecurities were a sin

you could merely pray away?

There’s something cynical in that,

something dangerous.

Something I haven’t the heart to feel,

it’s something impervious.

Because with great peril comes

an even greater awakening, an awakening

which floods the veins with frozen certainty

as the waters eating the Titanic.

It’s the time between collision

and capsizing, which we find ourselves

relieved of our blind faith, knowing

with grave admiration, the life

we’re living, is all we have.

July Reflection, 2020

The boy who cried gently to the wolf.

You can sense it you know,

yourself shutting down—again

with the change of scenery, again

with the change of heart.

It’s like trying to stop a freight train

running yourself empty, till

all there is is but to explode.

It’s a very empty place to be living.

It’s a very empty place to be born.

It’s a beautiful fall day, though, isn’t it?

Isn’t it beautiful, this

in depth exhibition of yourself—

without the guts, with all the answers

and nothing all that good say.

Again, another Fall. 2020

Regardless of the election.

There’s a sewer pipe

in the dark, by the L.A. river

like a grave in the ground

where people sleep

by the highway, by the neighborhood

where pumpkins soon

will be replaced by

feasts of Turkey, stuffing, corn

and carefully locked doors,

then to be replaced by balsams and fern

white lights and tender eyes

of Christmas morning,

regardless of the hole by the L.A. river

where people sleep

live, and love—and pray, regardless

of the election, regardless

of the president

I still weep.

Do you?

LA River. Nov 7, 2020

You just have to live.

Being sober’s

as overrated

as being drunk—

nobody wins.

You just have to live.

The Devil to one is God to another.

The Devil to one

is God to another.

It’s a cycle continued

that is, until

we stop looking to the sky,

stop burying our trauma,

and look our neighbor

dead in the eye,

without retaliation or judgement

and listen, to one another’s heart

which beats to the same rhythm

as a newborn babe

that is, until

birth begins

its earthly decay.

Whatever you decide, do it without the need for validation—we are one.

Whatever you decide, do it without the need for validation.

To seek validity is but a farce. It’s like aiming to make a splash in a rain puddle.

A child learns early on whether they care to admit it or not, that their choice is theirs and theirs alone. Nobody really cares more than it takes them to realize, eventually with age, that nobody really cares.

Sure, a mother cares deeply, but only as far as it interrupts her well being.

A father can break his back many times, but only as many times as it serves his cause.

Progression doesn’t come from an audience. Progression comes from within.

Progression comes from love, awareness, and nurture.

And although social media tells a different story from reality, we seek it, crave it, we often need it, but do we really?

Perhaps the greatest lesson we can learn from posting our day to day lives, morality, and hardships is that we are all equally as alone as we are the same—myself included.

Not too long ago, there was a time, it seemed, the world was much larger than we could ever imagine.

Driving cross country felt then like an achievement whereas now—after doing it more than a dozen times—it feels more like a routine I’d rather not admit.

Mostly it’s this that scares me.

Desensitization. It’s this that makes me wonder.

What’s the point?

The point is to treat yourself with the same dignity you would a stranger—a child.

The point is to look beyond life’s blessings, with eyes wide shut, and understand that all will be regardless of whatever validation you seek.

We can learn this by simply looking at a flower bloom. We can understand this by accepting that although, it may seem, the flower dies, another will take its place, as equally and wholly as beautiful as its former.

So whatever you decide, decide knowing, you aren’t as separate as you feel—we are all one.

Long Island Cottage, 2012

If nothing, I knew better

Yes, I knew better

with every fiber of my being

I just couldn’t stop the show

even if I’d wanted to

The dancers danced regardless

while the showmen sang,

underpaid and underdressed

If nothing, I knew better

than to give them validation

or the contents of my soul.

Cassadaga, 2011

Consciousness

If you’re not sure

then pause, wait

and listen to the sounds

of conscious—nothing—ness.

Muse

Therapy Circle

Listening in

on a socially

distant therapy

circle, I hear strange

certainty fading

with each spilled sip

of coffee, squandered

on psychosocial thoughts

in alignment with

the universe

always.

Los Angeles, Westwood

Topanga

Halogen yellow bursts

of light, turn signals

burn bright, through

white lines of Topanga

Morning sunrise, her and I

up all night, we rise

like silhouetted tree

under the belly of LA sky,

gaze upon a sea of fog

clouds, shower faint

hallucinations of

spontaneous future

Travel

October. Topanga Beach