Sunday, July 19, 2009

sketchbook: skyboats & lineament

in response to performing as a prop in a drag queen show
Shaping the edges, wrapping up the fanfare for this carnival ride. Admission $5. Gyrl, gyrl for sale. Let the party begin.

I never knew
I never knew I wanted love tied in a knot and slipped on the finger until she asked me. I never knew how comfortable familiar love can be when I’ve spent a lifetime staying with the casual. Sweet simple whispers across the nape of the neck stretch the memory. I pray they will cross the caveat and keep the lovers from crossing that impasse. Perhaps I’m just a drifter with tired wings hitching a ride on borrowed time. The thought squishes the beating rhythm and I quilter off. A thousand opportunities given to walk away, love stays. I won’t pretend my bag isn’t packed, collecting dust in the back of the closet. I never knew how much I want to pull it out and unpack, airing out the wind breaker, hanging up the coat; I never knew how much I want to stay.

Scratch the aching, mend the itch
Worries swell up in red dots at the collar, he loosen his tie, that noose hanging the hangman downside up. Eyes curl with fear. Fear permeates the air with perspiration. Something going terribly wrong, I don’t think his life plan is working. Panic fills the viewer and now we all twitch against our own itches, trying to mend all those things that went wrong a long long time ago.

PMS
Stepping over the scratching claws in my head, that divine right to be hurt. Thunderheads row across the blue, I want these skyboats to take me away today. Searching for the point on a map where a safe bosom resides I can lay down my head and pray, someplace sacred where I can stay.

Sacred
Somewhere between the alter and offerings a lineament stained thought sticks to the pulpit - a truth curled at the edges.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

'Yesterday was my birthday & I hung one more year on the line...

I should be depressed, my life's a mess, but I'm having a good time'. ~Paul Simmon.

My life is neither a mess nor am I depressed. I just love that song!

Came across this post when I was turning 30.

Pic from yesterday's Birthday celebration. Gifts from The Chief & Driftwood for the 33rd. heh. I love my life.

Monday, July 13, 2009

without the crow, who will be the cantor

I believe

........r
.................... r
..........r

I keep promising the story.

Very happy for the Chief and Driftwood as they are about to have their first little one. I have watched their relationship grow. I understand what love is by how they expressed it to each other. I have a thousand wonderful stories as to why these two should be celebrated for their relationship and their new one coming. I hope to soon to share some here.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Geography

When I was a child, sometime before adolescents, I was selling spices for a school fundraiser. At least, that was the page I remember. I took my catalogue to the neighbors, came across Old Mr. Mann. A widow three doors down from my family. We called him Mrs. Tucker's lover because he would fix up broken parts of her home and car and she was a widower herself. Reality suggests he was simply a kind soul looking for something to do and the drama was the need of the neighborhood to have something to talk about.

I hated selling things, though I have always been good at the sale. There is something about convicing you to buy my pitch, that makes the Cancerian side cringe. I digress. What happened that day wasn't about the sale. Wasn't even about that stupid catalogue or the heart shaped necklace with flecks of fake diamonds that arched the shape. Hehe. Ah, the childhood dreams. This scribble is about Old Mr. Mann.

I came acrossed his door. Convinced him inside. Tried to sell him salts and spice, but I don't think he had the money or could read. Wrinkled veneer, he smiled at me with these innoscent eyes behind big rimmed glasses, and changed the subject. Started to talk about my neighborhood - this corner pocket in the city. Took me to his backyard and pointed out the geography. See, my corner once was farm land. He showed me the slight slope in my backyard where this row of unexplained stones still reside that separated my yard from the garden and what my family called 'the back forty' (a small patch of land where two apple trees still reside). He showed me the shape of the farmland that once resided there. Gave me education about what once was and let me understand my own heritage.

I never made the sale. Honestly, he is the only person I remember from that year...and my heart shaped necklace.

I wish there was an Old Mr. Mann these days to describe my geography. Tell me why the stones that shape the hill are there. Ah, but even without understanding, I know there is old geography here.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Introspection's There: Where Am I?

I don't have insights or understanding for this revolution. I'd like to. Understanding comes with grief, the kind that can lighten the load, but brings absense so apparent, looking directly at the thought buggers the mind. I really don't want to feel.

I am epiphany gyrl. I understand and transcend. I don't. Too tired to go through this again.

So, I revert back to superstition, shy the mind away from reason and understanding, and make a birthday wish. 9 more days till I can blow out the candles. yay!!!!

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Night Sky

Periwinkle skin
Ochre halo crowned your light
Twilight your attire

Jason Mraz -I'm Yours (live)

My gyrlfriend wanted me to listen to this tonight. :).

Its nice being in love. We have something special and I am grateful to the universe for it.

~GoGo