formed at the edges of quicksand

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

still life

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.

this may be the only place I feel alive

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.

 

disenthrallment

she performs lived experiences
in educated rooms
swollen to appear more
divine release
giving to wait generously

soothsayer paced
liberates only certain truths
her furious heart unrestrained
as oranges rot in the winter sun
the sound of light folds
into warm submission

graceful omens

America in time of war (September 11, 2018, Mission District, San Francisco)

if 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

no lightning, no danger

ocean : prairie (photo by edwardatlee)

a series of lines / unbroken
as promises they hold their value

remind me, again, what constitutes forgiveness
fairness                               faith
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

sounds between notes

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

august is a glitch

my jaw has been clenched shut for three days
in a trance, I wait

Nathaniel Evans, 2015, A Message [oil on canvas]
sounds of skateboards grinding concrete float
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