Journal entry 07/17/10
I am on the peak of a mountain
one side fulfilled, the other dropping off in despair
I am on the peak of a mountain
also it is my advent of time
I create with all the organism
these stories future and past
giving birth to my parents
I restore it
having received life through them
I am estranged
I am on the peak of a mountain
being fulfilled means
nurtured through small things
from the well I fill my water vessel up to the brim
finding my home here
calming down
I want to be alive
in love
to sing
to kiss her
I need to be comfortable
comforted
I need to create something I am proud of
a song
medicine
I am proud of this song by Bjork
"5 Years"
“You think you're denying me of something
well I've got plenty
you're the one who's missing out
but you won't notice
'til after five years
if you'll live that long
you'll wake up
all loveless
I dare you
to take me on
I dare you
to show me your palms
I'm so bored with cowards
that say they want
then they can't handle
you can't handle love
you can't handle love
you just can't handle
I dare you
to take me on
I dare you
to show me your palms
what's so scary ?
not a threat in sight
you just can't handle
you can't handle love”
I am proud of this poem in Alice Walkers book
“For two who
slipped away
almost
entirely:
my “part” Cherokee
Great-grandmother
Tallulah
(Grandmama Lula)
on my mother’s side
about whom
only one
agreed-upon
thing
is known:
her hair was so long
she could sit on it;
and my white (Anglo-Irish?)
great-great-grandfather
on my father’s side;
nameless
(Walker, perhaps?),
whose only remembered act
is that he raped
a child:
my great-great-grandmother,
who bore his son,
my great-grandfather,
when she was eleven.
Rest in peace
the meaning of your lives
is still
unfolding.
Rest in peace
In me
The meaning of your lives
Is still
Unfolding.
Rest in peace, in me.
The meaning of your lives
Is still
Unfolding.
Rest. In me
The meaning of your lives
Is still
Unfolding.
Rest. In peace
In me
The meaning
Of our lives
Is still
Unfolding.
Rest.”
I am on the peak of a mountain
one side fulfilled, the other dropping off in despair
I am on the peak of a mountain
also it is my advent of time
I create with all the organism
these stories future and past
giving birth to my parents
I restore it
having received life through them
I am estranged
I am on the peak of a mountain
being fulfilled means
nurtured through small things
from the well I fill my water vessel up to the brim
finding my home here
calming down
I want to be alive
in love
to sing
to kiss her
I need to be comfortable
comforted
I need to create something I am proud of
a song
medicine
I am proud of this song by Bjork
"5 Years"
“You think you're denying me of something
well I've got plenty
you're the one who's missing out
but you won't notice
'til after five years
if you'll live that long
you'll wake up
all loveless
I dare you
to take me on
I dare you
to show me your palms
I'm so bored with cowards
that say they want
then they can't handle
you can't handle love
you can't handle love
you just can't handle
I dare you
to take me on
I dare you
to show me your palms
what's so scary ?
not a threat in sight
you just can't handle
you can't handle love”
I am proud of this poem in Alice Walkers book
“For two who
slipped away
almost
entirely:
my “part” Cherokee
Great-grandmother
Tallulah
(Grandmama Lula)
on my mother’s side
about whom
only one
agreed-upon
thing
is known:
her hair was so long
she could sit on it;
and my white (Anglo-Irish?)
great-great-grandfather
on my father’s side;
nameless
(Walker, perhaps?),
whose only remembered act
is that he raped
a child:
my great-great-grandmother,
who bore his son,
my great-grandfather,
when she was eleven.
Rest in peace
the meaning of your lives
is still
unfolding.
Rest in peace
In me
The meaning of your lives
Is still
Unfolding.
Rest in peace, in me.
The meaning of your lives
Is still
Unfolding.
Rest. In me
The meaning of your lives
Is still
Unfolding.
Rest. In peace
In me
The meaning
Of our lives
Is still
Unfolding.
Rest.”
I don’t remember much of my dreams last night
but oh, how I love to go there
I don’t want to remember her telling me that she cant give me what I want
estrangement
remembers the tapping on the center of her chest
waking her up, scented openings
ambrosia is a flower
Surrounded by half of boulders loud crazies at Café Roma
Like my grandmother, she’s given me half my style
which I can only acquire from lovely woman
porcelain
it has become dark features
so I am looking good
A kind of food
and let it go
with a smile
whith the remnants of tears not yet dried in the corners of my eyes
Lie
10 years I Ching, 5 years
I know it doesn’t work this way
summer follows spring
neither of us can control its growth
in the shape that it does
like the jungle of trees
with its mocking of birds
some unlucky weather
thunder disperses the clouds
no sorcery here
magic works out
this path with its own will
“I dare you to show me your palms”
A bit of poem that I write here now and was started earlier about my childhood
From within the sound
blows of hot steam
my mothers laborious torso plump
over the ironing board
is my childhood folded up on the sofa
crackling electric heat
Where I sang from
there was always a room meant only for Sundays best
the crisp blue garments falling off of huge shoulders
starched on the pew picking at meat under nails
from across the room this child’s stolen peak at the hairs of gendered monstrosity
his nakedness always hidden under holy white sheets
The second time I left
my father was forlorn on the concrete steps
the suburban stoop still shaded by red brick and juniper
like the city
my mother was still fucking mad
like my mother
the city was still fucking
like my fucking mother
the city was mad
A bit of poem that is just about time
the ages it has taken for water to remove mountains and leave behind canyons
are tied to the past not necessarily rotations
there are new stories that are to be told
So a mouth is open
A thought leaves ones throat
slightly changed
in ancient times it was still like this
That is all, just thought I’d try to share something in this hot month where I haven’t really been writing much but need to blog or else you might start to think I’m not real
love
but oh, how I love to go there
I don’t want to remember her telling me that she cant give me what I want
estrangement
remembers the tapping on the center of her chest
waking her up, scented openings
ambrosia is a flower
Surrounded by half of boulders loud crazies at Café Roma
Like my grandmother, she’s given me half my style
which I can only acquire from lovely woman
porcelain
it has become dark features
so I am looking good
A kind of food
and let it go
with a smile
whith the remnants of tears not yet dried in the corners of my eyes
Lie
10 years I Ching, 5 years
I know it doesn’t work this way
summer follows spring
neither of us can control its growth
in the shape that it does
like the jungle of trees
with its mocking of birds
some unlucky weather
thunder disperses the clouds
no sorcery here
magic works out
this path with its own will
“I dare you to show me your palms”
A bit of poem that I write here now and was started earlier about my childhood
From within the sound
blows of hot steam
my mothers laborious torso plump
over the ironing board
is my childhood folded up on the sofa
crackling electric heat
Where I sang from
there was always a room meant only for Sundays best
the crisp blue garments falling off of huge shoulders
starched on the pew picking at meat under nails
from across the room this child’s stolen peak at the hairs of gendered monstrosity
his nakedness always hidden under holy white sheets
The second time I left
my father was forlorn on the concrete steps
the suburban stoop still shaded by red brick and juniper
like the city
my mother was still fucking mad
like my mother
the city was still fucking
like my fucking mother
the city was mad
A bit of poem that is just about time
the ages it has taken for water to remove mountains and leave behind canyons
are tied to the past not necessarily rotations
there are new stories that are to be told
So a mouth is open
A thought leaves ones throat
slightly changed
in ancient times it was still like this
That is all, just thought I’d try to share something in this hot month where I haven’t really been writing much but need to blog or else you might start to think I’m not real
love
i love you, dog.
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