Saturday, August 27, 2005


there are parts of me that want to cry
to fall apart in the way an empty shell is broken upon the pacific's surf
something keeps convincing me to stand there in front of that ocean
knowing that it takes less than two seconds to engulf me

yet i find myself standing here waiting for her
not even waiting for her but for some symbol of her presence
i have found someone as nomadic and evasive as i
so i try to contain my fascination of her in my own world
knowing it is bound to fail

one cannot hold a horse to corral, knowing that its counterpart is out there
so when you have two horses at great distances from each other
how do you determine the difference between corral and range?

crossing paths

in his dreams he sees the reflection of her eyes in the sunlight as snow. she looks up at the heavens, smiling. it is one of those quizzical looks where you can't really tell what is amusing her so. but she looks and she smiles, that is all that is important to him in his vision. there is a tang of something inside that is happening to him. he doesn't quite understand it. it is something between the elation of a happy moment and the trepidation of one's worst fears. the grays of reality that he has come to accept elude his vision. the strange comfort of knowing that nothing is really as it seems give way to a range of siena and then finally grays finalized by the rich harshness of black and white. in the way that weston can depict blacks and whites, his world has suddenly become something that is categorically undeniable in its richness and extremes. he is not ready for this. this thing, this thing that is changing his emotional anatomy. this thing that is changing the shape of the vessel that he carries the things he cares about. it is changing without his volition and his permission. how did he get here? it can't be because of a smile. it can't be from the sound of her voice. they must have known each other in another life. simple silk threads crossing over time and space in a manner that would drive einstein insane.

what does one do when paths cross this way?

in the afternoon

in the afternoon the sun moves and clouds dance to keep the shadows in the right places. i look at my feet and wonder if they ought to be in shade or sun. as a child, these games seemed so important. now, nearing the close of a third decaded i find the value in those childhood games and try to revive them. i am understanding how important they are. i am understanding how precious those moments are when you aren't feeling judged by anyone in your moments. so i am silly. in some ways, silliness is the only way i can understand the dynamics of my connection with her.

she is mature yet silly and retains those traits as she deals with the bullshit of this place we live in. she has not gotten eaten up by the acid of cynicism and lacks the polish of being burnished by years of misguided purpose. so i find myself in a place that i've not been in in a long time. i don't really quite know what to do with this.

so i look at my feet and ask them if they know where they are going.

Friday, August 26, 2005


what does it mean to finally realize you miss the presence of another person? when you miss it in ways you are sure that wouldn't happen to you?

disconcerting. we as humans like to think we are in control. what a joke!

what is it to understand that one loves another against one's will?


from where he finds the strength to love and not to be in love he does not know. he realizes the oddity of their relationship. a liaison like that of a dragon and an earthling, two worlds apart but in heart sharing the same space. their best moments together is the sliver of grey between night and dawn, day and dusk.

he takes this trip and there is an empty seat next to him. in his heart, tissues have healed but there is still a hollowness in the shape of her. the boundaries between the two of them are like a strange nourishment. manna that they feed on when they are in contact with each other but they have to be careful not to partake too much and too often lest they let through the thing that keeps them safe from each other. the thing that connects them is the very poison.