Fault Lines

friday's child is full of woe

gaining perspective
is loosing sight
of stories thread loosely together
unevenly knit
and bound only by wit
they fall apart -
float away like a feather.

faltering  present participle of fal·ter (Verb)

Verb Start to lose strength or momentum: "her smile faltered"; "his faltering career". Speak or move in a hesitant or unsteady manner. humor me another one and i'll taunt you just in fun for the jester is strongest when detached for the longest and clowns forever dance around when memory is lost  and recollection of anger never found mis·step   /misˈstep/ Noun A clumsy or badly judged step: "one misstep could be fatal". A mistake or blunder. Synonyms false step - faux pas - mistake - error - gaffe - trip kindly enjoy this photo with me and picture quaintness as bare legged knees and 60s hair teased and girls of sixteen and let bottles drop  and bottoms plop and be silly and daring -  not sad and uncaring and live in an instant, carefree. I find myself tonight at bloggers doorstep, peering out and peeking in.  The writers instinct, if faint, is still recognizable. It sits within me like a beacon summoning me Home. Home to the depths of whoever this person is that I am. Home, not to who I have been, or who I hope to become,  but Home to who I am.  These masks I wear are falling to the floor one by one, and under every single face, is this seething unrelenting anger that is born of...what? That is born of the disappointment that I have been wrong. I have been wrong? Could it be that simple?  I haven't had a sip of alcohol in 8 days. I haven't indulged in any mood altering substances or lit a cigarette.  I am, it seems, exploring. I am exploring... sobriety. Feelings. Self indulgence of another kind.  I am indulging in the great "share." I am sharing, with you, myself. For. Some. Reason. The desire to be seen, known, observed, recognized is pretty normal I'd say. For those of us who grew up missing that key element, a father's expressed love, this need for recognition and just plain being noticed, for anything, can be obsessive. So, I walk this line. I want to desperately partake in this grand information, exhibitionistic, anything goes and anything can show society we live in, and yet I do know that I don't always know how much is too much. One of the most interesting things about not drinking for...gasp, a week... is that I have discovered that while alcohol may make me say or do some pretty embarrassing things, and may make me a little more interested in you at a party the I probably should be (or otherwise would be), one of the more interesting things I have discovered is that NOT drinking causes me to get too personal, be too talkative, and say and do some pretty embarrassing things. Case in point: This week we attended a very nice, very special musical soiree held at the downtown loft of a spanish composer. The wonderful band, Spanish Brass Luur Metals, was making some truly beautiful noise. It was a  Wednesday. We loved it. We bought the CD. Everyone that night, except me, was drinking wine or champagne.  This Wednesday drinking soiree is how we roll around here, and if you just take a second to think about that, you may be able to understand, at least in part, the reason I may have developed a problem. I mean, it was a Wednesday. In January. People are supposed to be cleansing January, aren't they?  At any rate, I remember bumping into a girl at the bathroom door. She was coming out, I was going in. She simply said, "Oh, I hope you haven't been waiting long." I then responded to her very simple statement with a three minute comedy improv about how i hadn't, how i had just walked up, what must she have been doing in there to think i was waiting so long, and that when I went in there, I hoped I might have as good a time as herself. Or something like that. When I closed the door, a thought flashed through my head, "Oh dear, I must be feeling a little tipsy." Then I remembered. Sober as the day is long.  Ug. What could be so wrong with me that I say such things to a perfect stranger..with NO GOOD EXCUSE for saying them?? I then thought, "Time to chill out here with some wine." Then I remembered...again. Sigh.  This little example is probably a cute diversion created to distract you, and myself, mostly, from the truly upsetting part of what is happening inside of me. The anger. The anger!!! Argh!!!! I imagine any posts to follow, if I don't pull this entire exercise in public futility offline, will be about that. Because it seems, most things in my life are either about that anger, or at the least, intensely affected by it.  Oh dear. The clown really is he saddest person in the room. Well, in this case, obviously, also the sexiest.  Till next time,  Sayonara, Suckers.

Something out of Something Else

words added to an advertisement

dragon life

Love is enough to wake one up
to the nightmare one's life is becoming,
but it is not enough
to erase the nightmare





so what to do?

get your dragon slaying sword out and your armour made of baby's breath, while adorning yourself with golden rings made of fairy's hair?

i'm afraid not.

life isn't a book.
its not roped together
in chapters
and bound up in bindings.
its not alphabetized,
it doesn't carry with it
the pleasant smell of yesteryear
guised as mold and dust.

words aren't always pretty, people don't always have time.

anger exists, 
and hate, and hurt.

healing is true too. and peace and serenity and submission and letting go.

and its not really a nightmare dragon at all.



its just you.
trying to get out of your way,
and be ok with the choices you've made,

as much as you may not be able stand those choices now at all.

the work now, as always, is to be.
love and be loved
be a partner, a friend
involved and helpful
and important.

to love





dragon's off again to bed
to tell stories
to children still afraid
enough to listen
if you blink your eyes-
just a little bit-
chances are
you'll miss him

dragons tell secrets
like that too
making up just enough
bad parts
to make the good parts
seem untrue

so when a dragon talks
listen with just one ear cocked
and hopefully the half
filled with all the true
will be the part that
makes it through

Revolutionary Dirty Pictures

it was a lovely weekend
spent together in a sort of
cloudy mumbling
drawing out ideas
in comments
made in
after thoughts

piecing together
future
tearing apart past

all the while, adjusting,
adjusting
adjusting to
the hour,
the minute,

moment
by
moment

suddenly 'now' came calling
and glasses full and empty
shattered everywhere

letting now be allowable-
allowing the now to just be-
is like catching a ride
with the tiger of time
outracing any thoughts
worth a dime

thoughts based on
memory
charading
far too long
as a measure of truth

oh, faulty
memory!
oh, untrustworthy
truth!

pictures are drawn.
pictures can be erased
- whitewashed -
scribbled over.
let go of, given out
-mailed away in an envelope

to europe or africa-

then carefully,
so very still,
painted over
with brush strokes
you never knew existed
and colors that have yet
to become real.

and the now becomes real.
the now becomes real.
the now becomes real.
just like that.
forever.
just for now.

turn tables

the moon goddess gathered everyone together one night,
"today we will rest from our plight"

the ocean goddess took it characteristically lightly
the goddess of rain just smiled

the goddess to whom noone shall lie,
strained hard to see in the dark

mountain goddess through up her arms
proclaiming this meeting to be in vain

the goddess of order and disorder too,
stood alone, and stared at the goddess of moon,
"tell me your pains, what work you have done,
and i'll tell you we've done the same- everyone;
but rest's not what we need, because
as we give out, we take back in- a million times over-
unless, you've been doing it wrong?"

the moon goddess winced and admitted her glow
had been fueled all on her own
and she never asked for anything returned,
"that is how goddesses do it," she said.
"with strength. with power. alone."

the goddess of order and disorder listened and understood
what had to be done.
"Mys sister dear, we don't need to sleep, we don't need to stop,
give me your hand, and let me help. take from me, what you need to give to the glow."
The moon goddess did as she was told, and the moon lit up brighter then it had in one hundred years.
and the brighter it glowed, the stronger the moon goddess became, until both were beaming as if they had just been born.

the meeting adjourned, with only this one lesson learned.

and the moon goddess was ok with that.

Collage Nightly Press, #1

the quote about rebellion, or lack thereof, is from an interview with sienna miller. i was perusing an old magazine, not even mine to start with, (not treating it as reading material, just looking for pictures to tear out) and the article caught my attention. when the emotion jealousy comes up, there's something there to really pay attention too. yes the grass is always greener, but sometimes people really do have super green grass. and usually people's grass gets more green the more they water it.

now if you'll excuse me, the water in my apartment was turned off earlier today, but its on now, and i'm pretty sure i can find a hose and go water the patch of something growing at the front of my building.

P.S. Lulu Likes the Weather . . .

and sitting on ledges.
Lulu Belle shares only
the most important information
with others.
She communicates
rarely with words at all.
Her eyes speak
volumes.

Lulu Belladonna
is voluminous.

Lulu Belladonna of the Angels and Stars
sifts through all the images
she sees-
summarizes the tiniest details-
assesses sirens and seagulls, friends and foe-

Lulu can tell if a car is coming
or going,
merely by the sound its tire's tread makes upon the ground.

Lulu Belladonna is an information highway.

Lu may not know you,
but if you're there-
no matter how crowded the room-
no matter how loud the music-
how dark the corners-
she will notice you.
absolutely.

and Lulu will know what you want to do,
before even you.

Lulu Belle can just tell.

Lulu likes table tops and things lying on the floor.
Lulu enjoys the covers being on top of her
and tiny places, like pillowcases.

Lulu likes to drink water out of glasses,
even when her own bowl is full.

Lulu tells the truth, in every situation.
and she never ever laughs at another's expense.

Lulu rarely laughs at all.
She rather, smiles- with her eyes.

Lulu likes you,
because you're an interesting person.

You have a nice way of carrying yourself,
and a soft voice. sometimes.
You have a kind heart and
are willing to play with her at the drop of a hat.
Lulu appreciates that.

Lulu thinks the two of you will get along just fine,
but she wants you to know, if the weather is particularly
exciting, she may want to spend some time alone.

Lulu expects you'd understand.
Lulu knows you need time with just you, too.

And she's ok with that.