am i willing to give up what i have in order to be what i am not yet?

am i able to follow the spirit of love into the desert?

it is a frightening and sacred moment.

there is no return.

one’s life is charged forever.

it is the fire that gives us our shape.

from the desert, w/love

she sees the world the way she wants

whatever else one might think of authority,

it was not funny.

but after one had rewired one’s self with LSD,

authority – with its preening pomp,

its affection for ridiculous rituals of office

its fulsome grandiloquence,

and eventually,

and sublimely,

its tarantella around Mutually Assured Destruction – became hilarious to us

and there wasn’t much we could do about it”

the mourning morning sunrise cracked-wheat crinkles, the end of it all.

knowledge w/o follow-through is worse than knowledge at all.

b/c if you’re guessing & it doesn’t work, you can just say, shit, the gods are against me.

but if you know & don’t do you’ve got attics & dark halls in your mind to walk up & down in wonder about.

this ain’t healthy, leads to unpleasant evenings, too much to drink & the shredding machine.

 

 

summer come faster.

she was only in it for the rain…

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it’s sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there’s never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

if…

if freckles were lovely, and day was night,
and measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
life would be delight,-
but things couldn’t go right
for in such a sad plight
i wouldn’t be i.

if earth was heaven, and now was hence,
and past was present, and false was true,
there might be some sense
but I’d be in suspense
for on such a pretense
you wouldn’t be you.

if fear was plucky, and globes were square,
and dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
things would seem fair,-
yet they’d all despair,
for if here was there
we wouldn’t be we.

problems…

2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. but what would happen if the last 4 was late? and how would it be if one 2 was me? or if the first 4 was you divided by 2?

i am leaving you…

i petrify in your mind and waste away in your hands.

i was given to you fresh – brand new

but you took me and did your do.

i was used, taken for a fool, and abused

i loved you always and always was wrongfully accused

the kicks, the punches didn’t hurt as much as your words

just one, “beautiful” or one, “i love you” would have been enough.

i am not worthless, not ugly… but i am too good for you.

i am priceless, a princess, deserving of a royal prince too

and this is the reason that i am leaving you…

oh to be a leaf

so simple so serene

a life of laziness and luxury

sun-baked wind-blown

alive for a moment

attached and apart of something concrete and tangible

seeing is not believing

seeing is seeing

believing is far more complicated

tidbit

a friend sent this to me…

“I believe that everything happens for a reason.

People change so that you can learn to let them go,

things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they’re right,

you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust noone but yourself,

and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.”

…truth?

i see God in birds and Satan in long words…

“i’m going, she said. i love you but you’re
crazy, you’re doomed.”