Wednesday, April 22, 2009

empty and done

this is not a good time - big deal. I was hopeful this time last week, some things made some sense, the world looked good, I felt maybe there was a little place I could fit into. There are mirages in the desert too and wanderers thirst to death trying to reach the oasis. I once learned from another how mean and selfish are certain acts and so no matter how much it might occur to me I could never -- I don't think -- be so cold and heartless and selfish, so uncaring to people I love. It kind of sucks -- in a way -- back when I saw no other way and that was the relief i sought that same one punished for me being that person; a person that the other became. That person took away my option when I saw what such acts do to people around you. Sometimes I'm mad that option was taken but on the other hand I would never want to do to anyone what was done to us. Still this is one of htose times I am mad he took my option. He didn;t take it - he showed it for what it really is I guess but really, everyone's different and mine might be different, a relief for more than me. I feel trapped, fragile, on edge. I don;t know why. I don't know what to do, what I can do ... other than these same things...isolation is good and isolation is bad. No matter. I'm here, we're here. Maybe there's a reason other than the internal struggle and trying to make sense of things and our place - if any. Maybe not. I don't want to give up before I know. But I am tired. I want to go to sleep and stay there.
It strikes me at times with more force than at others that I may never know, that I may be just on my own to wait it out. But how long am I supposed to wait? Where is everyone? What did I do, other than the obvious that some say I didn't do and others say I am in fact responsible for? Right now I am so mad that my eternal always when it gets so bad option was taken ... but I guess there's a reason for that. Probably no good reason but a reason no difference.
I thought I would come back from NY with insight and some sort of renewal based on stuff I read and things maybe I figured out but somewhere, somehow, that all went out the window. Incommunicado for a very long time sounds good. Forever. Away from all of this where I can't screw up, I can't be judged, I can't remember. But if away is where I went -- gone and out -- perhaps it would be nothing but judgment, screw ups, and rememberings. And I guess at that point there would be no more options. Tired of crying and of trying to not cry, of feeling alone and trying to not feel alone. Just plain tired, empty almost -- all of a sudden out of nowhere, for no reason. If I cant' move forward, I want to be done.
Perhaps this is nothing to put here, perhaps I will delete it. Most likley it will go unread but this is for me anyway; I fell off a cliff and I don't know why. I thought others were there to jump with me and that we all had parachutes but no, that's not it. No chutes here.

Friday, April 10, 2009


across jack kerouac from city lights --

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The Garden

It is that time.Past that time in fact to plant the seeds and the bought transplants that in a few months might hopefully start turning into real stuff -- so far we had about 6 peaches and 4 strawberries and the tomatoes never actually quit and I have about 10 cups of basil from one plant whacked to the ground waiting to be made into pesto. Especially with Ike's flooding we needed the beds raised so they were finally built and filled with dirt and now they are filled - tomatoes, peppers, squash, eggplant, okra, melons, potatoes, corn and cukes ... and basil, dill, tarragon, parsley, nasturtiums, lavender, cilantro gone to seed already. One large spot left for asparagus that i don't yet have.The peach tree that already made peaches is full of little green ones too -- it hurt to thin them out, picking perfectly nice little green nibs of peaches to space them out and just throwing them away. The theory is that Ike confused the tree by shaking it up so much that it made an early crop in November. And I planted an apple tree that is supposed to make 4 kinds and it has little green apples all over ... but I am not so confident that it will survive with so much grafted onto one rootstock.And the point of this all is that it was not the same this year. It is more as though I am hired help than this is my garden. I was so excited to have the beds put in and they have been tested -- we had an enormous flooding rain, not so bad as to come in the house but to cover the street and start filling the yard, and the beds were fine; nothing drowned or was washed away.

Usually gardening is a meditation - whether it's vegetables or flowers, whatever. But this year it's doing, not being. It's busy work for an empty mind. And I think the plants somehow sense it. They are growing but a little and not really thriving. Perhaps it's the time of year; it has been pretty cool so far this year. I say to myself when June comes it will be that jungle we're used to and then we'll be over our heads. But even if that comes to be, will it then be a meditation again? What happened to my meditation? It is the biggest most garden space I've had in a long time, so what's the deal? I hope I find out ... soon
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Wednesday, April 1, 2009

still nauseous

They're out of it.
It could be something in the air.

That lie has been living for over forty years
Jesus wandered in the desert
Don't eat that or you will die
We all will.
Mabe there's something under here.
Maybe we will find buried riches.
Maybe they will leave us alone.
Maybe we will not die so young.
Maybe you will listen to us.
Are you there?

Talking's no good after a time.

Curious stuff happens there.
Can you be homeless if you're incarcerated?
Have you ever seen the oracle of the music?
to the intense halllucinations going by.
The miracle is that people keep believing.
Listen carefully.

Night is coming
We're tired of being broken, being seen in pieces.
Tell me, at the end of the day, one more time.
God sent a message but I lost it.
Hurtful beautiful ballads from the
scratchy far away stations knock and come in
far across a desert sky.

Every fence has another side.

Don't misunderstand me
just because you can.
Tact and diplomacy have no place in art.
What of poetry?
If you don't have a great pile of songs what's the point?

Wear your comfort loosely.
Today's a day as good as any
to fall for the sky.
If you cry I'll never take you on vacation again.

Sometimes when you're asleep
I think the dark wants me
when you're not awake to remember
I look through
the yellow stains of your eyes
trying to see.


The entire whole street is activated.
Leave it.
Leave it be.
Go back.
Go back to your wife.
Go back to your life and leave mine alone.
somewhere else far away from here
without us trailing in wonderment.
We are through of you.
Walk with me.
Follow the prince and you may find what you're looking for
Or not.
Predatory creatures in the grass.

Leave your spaces open for us to see.
all the way.
Caller response.
Some sort of words.
A brass band plays in the corner store
where the twins were delivered last century
No, wait, that was our house
in the front room behind the azalea bush.
Holdoing on all this time
with the banty rooster pecking away

Only one lived.

An epic drama as in Botswana
before the cinema
created landscapes of our own.
Histories of families that lived in this house
anything but that.
Visual effects with audiotory prompts.
No one is really aware.
People pulled into the opening
or shat out the other end.

How can you tell?

A museum has no room to respond.
Things go unsaid.
We are unspoken.

I have made my own decision and the net profit is exactly

There is a reason
some speak for themselves and no one
We should not repeat them.
The freeway goes on and on
in the heat and traffic crawls like a sick centipede
going nowhere but fast.

There's not enough air.

Is there sustainability in your art?

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houston, tx, United States

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