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My photo
:, Indonesia
I do not speak my truth to antagonize you.... I share this swollen river running -- This waterfall of faith-- because it flows from me like lennon's endless rain.... --my paper cup: this poem-- to which an endless string of words spill out and on to... I stain the sentences with abundant articulations that boil inside of me... I thirst, I starve, I crave. and all that quenches... all that can satiate me is to open the faucet and allow the words to run... They skip and dance across themselves... They formulate on their way out like fireworks deciding which way they will face when they open and sizzle in the night air... And when they do... it's a sight to behold. It shocks me like the boom, and takes me aback to see what has emerged. And Keroac knew. He knew all along... that I was one. As my words explode like spiders across the sky... I watch in staggering wonder at my truth revealed and know that I am home here. I have taken my vow... signed in blood... solemnly sworn myself in... been hazed and pinky promised... and I know... without the shadow of a doubt... that I am a mad one. ...and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Friday, March 12, 2010

...dreams of a daydream day...

An iris expanding....
Absorbing a horizon.
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A heart throbbing...
Gazing at its unrequited love partner.
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Fingers tapping...
On the antique oak desk in a therapist's office.
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Eardrums pulsating...
From a bassline that pounds through the space and rattles the confusion from the air like batting a cobweb
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A lip being bit down on....
To relieve the urge to do what should not be done. That perfectly imperfect thing that feels simultaneously so right and so wrong
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Teeth so overly whitened, they make a "ding" sound ...
Chattering in the frigid icy air
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Toenails cracked and coated in filth...
Chipped black polish tells the love story of a desert festival where the universe melts and walls of spirit dust consume and transform
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A sweaty palm...
Being wiped dry on denim
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A broken bass string...
Under christmas lights strung from the ceiling pipes
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A color-beyond-the-lines coloring book
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A mirror to show us who we didn't know we were
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An eyelid closing
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And then another
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And then we dream.

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