The hills are thick with creamy fog these late-August mornings, then fade into brilliant blue. My dreams have been performed in airports and church vans. I rode a mechanical bull pleading to get to where I thought I wanted to go.
Takahiko Hayashi, Stories-spilled out of histories, mixed media on paper.
a different summer morning
you joked that Red Delicious
was put there by a witch
4 May 2014, Oakland, CA
I’m disciplined to distraction
the peek of a thigh
roses at the edge of on-ramps
yielding to pressure
Math Bass, Newz!, 2018. Gouache on canvas. 82 x90 inches
“Push button to stop the train”
wide open as the sky tattoo
following clouds shaped exactly like breaking waves
Rivane Neuenschwander. The Silence of the Sirens. 2013.
The sky is mute.
My palms soft.
The future broke.
Your hands found me wanting.
Shared recognition creates intimacy
when the public body is an impulse.
Wild as blessings, and just as sacred,
I come wide, spread open.
Living a literal life
is an obedient life.
My feed is deepfake informative
so I reduce truth to metaphor.
Wandering ribs is a radical referent.
We’ve been promised what does not exist.
Birds bob and sway
above the frothy noise.
Paul Schutzer, birds on barbed wire strung atop the Berlin Wall, January 1962
This may be the exact amount of
now that I can continuously absorb.
deposits of memories make a body
or a pulpit
Despondence, according to plan, is a fevered imagination.
should I revise, again
or stay as is
After all, even light has its own form of pollution.
she performs lived experiences
in educated rooms
swollen to appear more
giving to wait generously
liberates only certain truths
her furious heart unrestrained
as oranges rot in the winter sun
the sound of light folds
into warm submission
America in time of war (September 11, 2018, Mission District, San Francisco)
attention is the beginning of devotion
then acknowledgement of witness is where I will begin
from street level view, I am an island
a butterfly, hummingbird, & a dragonfly
float through smells of rotting oranges
jump cuts of urban landscapes
in complimentary opposition
the people bartered & exchanged energy
an elegant observation of intimacy
cleaving to an aesthetics of division
loyal to self & other
in chorus, our mutual true horizons were laid visible
quote is Mary Oliver from
Upstream: Selected Essays
ocean : prairie (photo by edwardatlee)
a series of lines / unbroken
as promises they hold their value
remind me, again, what constitutes forgiveness
where hypocrisy fits in context to perfectionism
in a universe of endlessly revised incarnations
most mornings I stare out the kitchen window
wishing I was moving at the speed of a morning commute
I don’t swim away from
the greedy snapping of breath,
but my throat…well,
terror owns each kiss.
stanza from “Here” by
Amber Flora Thomas
N Ocean Beach, July 20, 2018
As waves of morning light
survive extravagant centuries
I follow a thread of words
primary gravity safety
broken just enough to fit in
my jaw has been clenched shut for three days
in a trance, I wait
sounds of skateboards grinding concrete float Nathaniel Evans, 2015, A Message [oil on canvas]
common as the sun rising above distant freeways
this is a scene framed by palm tree ascensions
bus stops concentrate waiting strangers
wanting lives that respond versus react
a wish more violent than fading starlight
fear-riddled dreams are an intuitive compass
the future is bigger than we can ever pretend
metaphors swell as waves of silent witnesses scroll
in transit, temporary, I thrash