damn her...

somewhere something has been stirred…
the thing I called loosely standing has become a sitting… I am down
and the upheaval has begun..
just a few words at the end of our session- in the last 15 minutes crashed down and into me- rattling my inflexibility loose, pushing every button I though I had severed the connection to.

She said I don’t let others care for me.. I don’t let them in.. I’m good at being open but not at being vulnerable. I think of our meetings called therapy as maintenance not deep sea fishing where we have to fish for that ever illusive pain-
that hurt that I know I carry,
that we all carry.
Poking and prodding doesn’t serve a purpose.
I’ve come to accept that there is and always will be a deep seeded pain that resides in my bones.
I wonder if this is a self defeating ideal.
I have come to live with it and function with it as a part of me.
It doesn’t control me..
or does it?

Isn’t that what living is?
Isn’t it itabout managing the pain?
I think I’ve done nicely for myself..
I’ve made connections time and time again..
they may come and go but they still live inside of me.
Surely I am not one of the few who live inside this existence...

digging in the dirt...

4.15.09

Looking back now I realize it was the kind of dream you always remember somewhere in your consciousness-
Me especially since I’ve only had two of the kind in my life-

The first was not as telling- it was more of a glimpse
The military looking man at the bar was not him-
he was merely a glimpse of who He was..
he was a grandfather but even in that I recognized a part of myself
It was in his eyes…
His demure smile and perhaps the way he held himself…with an air of importance and purpose…

The second dream- the one more recently was a voice-
“mi hija, mi hija” I could hear him yell over the phone when these mysterious women I didn’t know, were kidnapping me to take me to him..
in a fiery rush and tumble I was there standing before this short, overweight balding man whom they claimed was my father, mi padre..

he engulfed me in his bare arms and slowly repeated himself, “mi hija, mi hija”- we spoke desperately- both of us trying to make ourselves understood- “who are you, where have you been, how are you, tell me, tell me everything you can” in the broken language- with the broken heart, and broken promises than bind us. I don’t recall what I saw in him that was part of me—perhaps the eyes again.. eyes that I’ve looked into for years searching for someone else’s..

I walk the streets of my heavily populated latino city and I feel contempt.. any of them could be my family and I wouldn’t know it… that is the worst part.. I feel like a fool not knowing my seed bearing parents. I am the lost fruit in the world of seeds that will never match my empty memory.. my blood flows somewhere else I know- but after so long the not knowing starts breaking down the home of my temple.. which should inherently be familiar
but is not-
It so wickedly is not…

My fires...

my creativity has been focused on writing words on your body
instead of on paper
my energy has been a linear line
from me to you
i wonder if i will find that you,
my muse, have taken my words from me-

it's all fire here
it's all horizontal
that is where i flow best-

i'm distracted by your words
your lips
how they pull me, play me,

i want you
almost every second
of
every
waking
moment

and when i'm asleep
i am lying beside you
and i want you
from where i am

i watch you as you sleep
and when i climb on top of you
i listen to your heartbeat
and i feel at home

you are the gypsy i've been looking for
my match of sorts
i am with you
and i am love

thank you lover
thank you
for giving me this
and you...

some sort of freedom..

something of a testimony
something like a letter
with a destination
eyes to see it
a mind to think it
a heart to feel it
my words come at once.
nothing that this contains was premeditated
i have no clue what will be revealed if any thing at all
i will purge
simply purge
like i do
like i will
like i have.
i know it is to you
for you
about you
perhaps
but not about you.

i am sitting on the porch
a boddington's at my right
with the sound of hammers hitting the side of a home that is being rebuilt.
they wanted closure-
the once open room is now closed, it's been boarded, sheet rocked, and now cemented
i don't think i've ever seen who occupies that home-
i feel know something about their mentality by way of the added walls that they are showing me.
i wonder what they fear, or more what they don't want to see
they've added a brick wall and wrought iron gate in front of the door and traded a grass lawn for a convenient big driveway that has room for a 5x5 patch of green. they are changing some things- my reminder is the hammers hitting the side of the home

what do i want to know about you...
what do i want to ask...
what do i want to tell...
what do i want you to ask...
i never got to tell you about my story of when i learned to communicated and when i swore to never hold a thing in that bent me in some way-
i just told someone new the story last night and it just reinforced my love for david and the beauty that his crippled body radiated to me during those months.
someday i'll share it with you-

i want to know your scars-
i want to see the paths that lead to your heart that have started and then stopped every time something reminds you of something you'd rather forget-
i want to witness the moments where you second guess yourself
and your parents tell you need more-
i want to see the toughness in you that always makes me smile
because i know that not even you can be that strong,
crumble.
i want you to need to be held for a moment
when you just need someone else to hold you up and tell you it's gonna be allright.
i want in..
can you hear me?
i want in..
that may sound threatening...
i'm sure it sounds threatening-
i'm not trying to scare you or take something from you-

i just want sentences that complete the thought-i want you to keep looking at me instead of turning away when something comes up that you'd rather i didn't see.

the sound of the hammering sounds like native drumming,
tires to gravel roll away the rhythm,
birds ass the off tempo
and racing engines provide the hum..
the constant hum..

powderhorn terrace windows...

I am standing with you now
In your atmosphere
Watching
Feeling
Weeping
Because though I am there
I cannot reach out to you nor tell you that I’m there
You pace furiously as you feel the presence of something
Somewhere inside you-
You feel me
I know this
I don’t know how to convey my companionship with true lines
Of myself
You don’t want to see my face
You don’t want this invasiveness to prove real
I am on your mind
And that is where I want to be
You are on mine
And that is where you will live
From across the park
I see the lights of your apartment
I want to crawl in the window
And sit on the ledge of your consciousness
And repeat a million times
How sorry I am
And how I’m figuring things out on my own
The way I must have needed to
But that in all of it I’m loving you
And that love is growing stronger
More solidified each day-
I don’t expect that you’re happy or particularly eager for my return
But in the face of my mistakes I am waiting to come back
And make things right
Because yours dear is a kiss to build a dream on…..

burning mariposa...

She, a butterfly against the walls of my mind
Wings stretched to their fullest
Back towards me
Colors and hues I’ve never witnessed
Soft to the touch
Radiance that leaves a powdery residue once she’s in flight
She’s slow but her crooked direction makes her hard to catch
Graceful in her chaos
She’s within sight but her eyes are facing forward and she cannot see what is behind her;
Me.
I recreate my own form
changing as the shape of her takes on a new appearance
Love is like this
If her flight pattern is any indication of the rocky road ahead than she surely gave me an insight to life with her
Rumble tumble breathe and choke
I come up for air only to find I was never submerged
But the fluid of my thoughts and actions
Have slowly started to pull me under
To a place where lines are blurry

The temperature is always changing and the sun is mistaken for a …..
Description is useless as the ups and down are unpredictable
Years spent looking for a pattern proves futile as well
All is as all was
And I am deciding that those places were never as warm as they were cold
I am surrounded by love
That has always been my blessing
And I give it as much as I know how
But I know she’s thinking she wishes that I didn’t give it out the way I should give it to her
And her only-

letting go of leftover houses...

she sits in front of the fridge deciding on her meal-
oh yeah,
and for me too
she looks and decides which food best describes our lives-
"yeah the tofutti-
Meli-
that's for you.
and for me
yeah, it's the greek salad.
it has cucumber, feta cheese and red onion.."

we drove up and killed the lights
we sat in front of the lights and talked about the memories that were stored inside the blue house with the black shutters...
"that house- i used to sleep in, bec.
that lawn i know by heart
and remember ralph? i had a better looking lawn than him. I know him, my lawn was way better..
that porch,
that porch i used to come home from school or work and take a nap on.
i would ponder the world and wonder if it would end up being as beautiful and quiet as that view of the birch tree and the lawn in back.
i remember many games of football and lazy days of playing catch with my kid brother.."

she says "you know when you found a new best friend- i was demoted to the back seat. Because of darby, i was demoted to the back seat and you used to yell at me for being late for the car pool to school when you were still putting your makeup on while you were driving... you demoted me even though i had been the one who stayed up late talking in my parent's kitchen, feeding you all the m and m's you wanted.. and you let her sit in the damn front seat!"

i think of the pets that used to own the yard and the cat who begged for food.
i remember the walks through my back yard to your house, sneaking in though i knew where the key was. that key was always there for me to use..
I forget the memories until i'm with you and we're in the kitchen we've both known for years, with the food that was always there..

we perform this ritual every time we come home..
only now we think harder because we know the memories in this space are soon to be occupied by strangers and those moments will have to live inside of us...