The greatest part of any love I have ever had was the deafening stare exchanged between my eyes and those of the man sitting next to me – the man with me in the booth across from the bar, any bar, any place at all. He faces me, the window. I face him, the crowd- we practically watch time make us older and wiser.
I find him again in a coffee shop, years later when we are different, but the stare is the same. Not the same as the gaze afforded to and from the man with whom I have just made love. In my bed, in his bed- that man, that stare is different. (All other beds are “ours".)
Beside him at the dinner table or after a game- a pause. On the roof of a building, passing a smoke back and forth between us like the few and familiar, slight but delicious, words of one poem spoken over and over. It lights our faces from the bottom with rich pre-autumn glow in the windy city night. Our silhouettes facing each other are their own brand of stare.
Then the stare of the potential lover- the man I am meeting. The briefest stop in our handshake- a break, a touch, a stare. The burning stare of a man whose look I refuse to return. The whimpering stare of a man with whom I am ending a relationship.
These stoned silences stored up in a place that memories and pictures own before words. The stare- thru a wall, from down a hallway, from a car- driving away, looking back. A final curious stare after the person you just left telling you you will never see them again.
And you are a different person for acknowledging what kind of time-mad reverence this brand of stare offers you. Stares speak. They touch on living tissue and become parasite memory. Our eyes and brain the perceiving host accosted by unrelenting heartbeats sound of blood bringing love, love, love. No stare without the lasting speech of love’s dynamic voice. The final verbal look transcending syllabic function. The deep smile in a man’s stare- revealed or hidden. The tears he finds, unwarranted in his still-dry expression. These are the shaman. These are the teachings and the practice.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
F Y I R L
You.
You- thing with secrets.
I've never wanted any one's secrets so bad before. Do you want them?
What do you rally against now? What hurts you? Does it/do they really?
Don't you know: Every day your magic works.
I'm your best opponent; arrived at just the right moment.
Then I say goodbye when I sleep and I woke and said goodbye but I didn't know how not to. The pattern is as sharp as it is lovely.
Nights afterward I came to you remembering where to touch you and touch you to please not only me. Smashing wet kiss against your mouths having never forgotten also the taste of your hair and hands. How your feet smell pointing their flavorful toes toward me.
From epochs ago the tears I cried into the carpet, and the poems hidden in the walls nourished ivy out from the mirrors, inviting green blades of new proud grass into the toilet tank. Roots arrived from behind the refrigerator, and pushed and propped at the ends of the couch.
Home was never just this tin can, but the can and the world- every heartbeat that built it back apart and tore it back together.
All this means is-
I've been grateful to know you and love you in this world,
and I will be grateful, happy, to know and love you in the next.
You know who you are.
You- thing with secrets.
I've never wanted any one's secrets so bad before. Do you want them?
What do you rally against now? What hurts you? Does it/do they really?
Don't you know: Every day your magic works.
I'm your best opponent; arrived at just the right moment.
Then I say goodbye when I sleep and I woke and said goodbye but I didn't know how not to. The pattern is as sharp as it is lovely.
Nights afterward I came to you remembering where to touch you and touch you to please not only me. Smashing wet kiss against your mouths having never forgotten also the taste of your hair and hands. How your feet smell pointing their flavorful toes toward me.
From epochs ago the tears I cried into the carpet, and the poems hidden in the walls nourished ivy out from the mirrors, inviting green blades of new proud grass into the toilet tank. Roots arrived from behind the refrigerator, and pushed and propped at the ends of the couch.
Home was never just this tin can, but the can and the world- every heartbeat that built it back apart and tore it back together.
All this means is-
I've been grateful to know you and love you in this world,
and I will be grateful, happy, to know and love you in the next.
You know who you are.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Busier than a black hole in a galactic whorehouse
Ok-
I'm about to get all new-age and super-psychic on you, but bear with me, as some important questions are involved.
I've been casting or "pulling" runes. Runes- the ancient Nordic set of 24 symbols embodying all the world and the cycles of creation/destruction. (sometimes 25 if you count the symbol of no symbol.) Each with its own relatively hard-to-pronounce name and numeric value.
I've made my own deck of cards with a symbol on each, and have been using a small guidebook to do readings. Each reading pertaining to a specific issue or question. I've asked about relationships, friends, and most recently- work. This time pulling six runes in a specific order, and reading them according to a past-present-future outlook.
I have to say, one only invests power and respect in these things if they believe in the ability of a divination tool (tarot, palm reading, crystal balls, whatever.) to sincerely have insight into how one can CHOOSE to live; to change after connections are made based on the readings.
And...wow, guys. The runes are really working for me.
I've been wondering: are there specific archetypal "keys" that one uses to access the collective unconscious?
My work so far suggests that yes, if there were a set of keys, they are runes.
My "magic" has brought me to a certain point here. Meditation is important, as is writing. With runes I've also been doing some "dreamwork". I will usually relax and light a candle, shuffle the cards, choose one, meditate on it, attempt to respect it ceremoniously by touching it to my forehead and pillow. Then it is tucked it into my journal between the pages where I will write the next morning and compare the image and the meanings associated with it, with the download of images or dream happenings from the "collective unconscious" aka the internet of the mind. Of every mind. That's right, Jung was cooler than Freud.
Guys, I have wanted to find a way to do this for so long, and now here it is- right in front of me. I am giddy with good fortune- this is a gift, an awareness, that everyone can have. Somehow I think its foolish to assume it stops with humans.
But here's the flip: No keys needed necessarily- every idea is a doorway to what some describe as the "transcendental" state.
I'll say that again: Every Idea Is A Doorway.
Perhaps the "keys" are really only helpful at discovering and interpreting patterns after one enters a door.
But it's a relief to find that to access it, all one has to do is surrender effort. Simply breathe, and fall asleep.
PS-
On a media related note, I've been catching up on episodes of "Xavier: Renegade Angel" - Adult Swim's computer animated spastic shaman and his multi-dimentional adventures. Really an amazing comedy series that lampoons the shit out of vision quests and other ethereal hippy noise (as illustrated above!) in the name of a little bit of potty humor and triple entandres (sp?).
In a world full of decaf radio and television, I find myself turning more and more to animation for challenging content.
Let me know if you've stumbled on anything lately that's blown your mind.
XO!
I'm about to get all new-age and super-psychic on you, but bear with me, as some important questions are involved.
I've been casting or "pulling" runes. Runes- the ancient Nordic set of 24 symbols embodying all the world and the cycles of creation/destruction. (sometimes 25 if you count the symbol of no symbol.) Each with its own relatively hard-to-pronounce name and numeric value.
I've made my own deck of cards with a symbol on each, and have been using a small guidebook to do readings. Each reading pertaining to a specific issue or question. I've asked about relationships, friends, and most recently- work. This time pulling six runes in a specific order, and reading them according to a past-present-future outlook.
I have to say, one only invests power and respect in these things if they believe in the ability of a divination tool (tarot, palm reading, crystal balls, whatever.) to sincerely have insight into how one can CHOOSE to live; to change after connections are made based on the readings.
And...wow, guys. The runes are really working for me.
I've been wondering: are there specific archetypal "keys" that one uses to access the collective unconscious?
My work so far suggests that yes, if there were a set of keys, they are runes.
My "magic" has brought me to a certain point here. Meditation is important, as is writing. With runes I've also been doing some "dreamwork". I will usually relax and light a candle, shuffle the cards, choose one, meditate on it, attempt to respect it ceremoniously by touching it to my forehead and pillow. Then it is tucked it into my journal between the pages where I will write the next morning and compare the image and the meanings associated with it, with the download of images or dream happenings from the "collective unconscious" aka the internet of the mind. Of every mind. That's right, Jung was cooler than Freud.
Guys, I have wanted to find a way to do this for so long, and now here it is- right in front of me. I am giddy with good fortune- this is a gift, an awareness, that everyone can have. Somehow I think its foolish to assume it stops with humans.
But here's the flip: No keys needed necessarily- every idea is a doorway to what some describe as the "transcendental" state.
I'll say that again: Every Idea Is A Doorway.
Perhaps the "keys" are really only helpful at discovering and interpreting patterns after one enters a door.
But it's a relief to find that to access it, all one has to do is surrender effort. Simply breathe, and fall asleep.
PS-
On a media related note, I've been catching up on episodes of "Xavier: Renegade Angel" - Adult Swim's computer animated spastic shaman and his multi-dimentional adventures. Really an amazing comedy series that lampoons the shit out of vision quests and other ethereal hippy noise (as illustrated above!) in the name of a little bit of potty humor and triple entandres (sp?).
In a world full of decaf radio and television, I find myself turning more and more to animation for challenging content.
Let me know if you've stumbled on anything lately that's blown your mind.
XO!
"Four Letter World"?
Why that title?
Well, it's amazing what can happen when you realize you're sexy.
When you realize.. EVERYTHING is sexy. Sex is all over everywhere, and there's no denying our sweeter, baser nature.
"Yes, it too can happen to you!"
The dirty possibilities challenge you to explore while maintaining your innocence. Finding the courage to try new things, and still admit some ignorance to life. Step to the line and accept the calling, as it were. (A whole note on bondage/BDSM fits in here, but Ill save that.)
With that, life and love are one magnificent process- This is precisely the instruction I received upon moving to Chicago for the first time, and it's part of why I'm going back..
But getting back to the title: writing fiction has been tough for me. Its been hard to accept that brevity is my strong point when it comes to writing anything, really. I'd like to think that I have more to say, and that I can go deeper on a subject.
This is why writing erotica has been extraordinarily helpful.
When all you have to do is get 2 or more characters to get together and physically engage in some form, that single criteria frees you up to work any set of circumstances. Maybe this is a no-brainer for some, but I had to work it out.
That said, my current efforts involve putting together a short story collection that will be erotica-based, but not exclusively. The general theme will just be short fictions with a lusty underbelly;
I've decided to call it "Four Letter World".
No doubt, it will contain some four-letter words, and some 50c words. The images/product of course, will be a little more expensive. ;)
Most of the writing is complete, the editing process just begun. But I'm still very interested in fielding ideas for further writing. Got a plot line or some image or story element that you've thought about, but never thought you would write out? Let me know.
The first poem in my introductory collection Briefly, The Heart has an ending line:
"Without words they tell me: having sex is the one best way to take over the world."
And so, in the best way I know how, I will attempt to do just that. Wish me luck!
Don't worry- its going to take me awhile to find a press and get somebody to back me and market this thing, but you'll be the first to know when it hits the shelf.
Thanx, Team-
Dana
PS- (a journal entry from 6/08)
"Quick argument for the sexual revolutions' potential contributions to human longevity"
It all comes down to this: illuminating the taboo...
Anal bleaching gets us talking about our asses. Breast implants get us talking about... BOOBS! And there seems to be no end to the things we don't know about ourselves, just as there is no end to the pleasure one can receive in relaxing into the exploration of one's sexual faculties.
A stress reliever + physical equalizer, the erotic act, and the extent to which it can be discussed/shared + generally fessed-up to, is a powerful tool for life-long education. By doing so, we expand the possibilities of our nature and quite possibly the lifespan of our species.
Well, it's amazing what can happen when you realize you're sexy.
When you realize.. EVERYTHING is sexy. Sex is all over everywhere, and there's no denying our sweeter, baser nature.
"Yes, it too can happen to you!"
The dirty possibilities challenge you to explore while maintaining your innocence. Finding the courage to try new things, and still admit some ignorance to life. Step to the line and accept the calling, as it were. (A whole note on bondage/BDSM fits in here, but Ill save that.)
With that, life and love are one magnificent process- This is precisely the instruction I received upon moving to Chicago for the first time, and it's part of why I'm going back..
But getting back to the title: writing fiction has been tough for me. Its been hard to accept that brevity is my strong point when it comes to writing anything, really. I'd like to think that I have more to say, and that I can go deeper on a subject.
This is why writing erotica has been extraordinarily helpful.
When all you have to do is get 2 or more characters to get together and physically engage in some form, that single criteria frees you up to work any set of circumstances. Maybe this is a no-brainer for some, but I had to work it out.
That said, my current efforts involve putting together a short story collection that will be erotica-based, but not exclusively. The general theme will just be short fictions with a lusty underbelly;
I've decided to call it "Four Letter World".
No doubt, it will contain some four-letter words, and some 50c words. The images/product of course, will be a little more expensive. ;)
Most of the writing is complete, the editing process just begun. But I'm still very interested in fielding ideas for further writing. Got a plot line or some image or story element that you've thought about, but never thought you would write out? Let me know.
The first poem in my introductory collection Briefly, The Heart has an ending line:
"Without words they tell me: having sex is the one best way to take over the world."
And so, in the best way I know how, I will attempt to do just that. Wish me luck!
Don't worry- its going to take me awhile to find a press and get somebody to back me and market this thing, but you'll be the first to know when it hits the shelf.
Thanx, Team-
Dana
PS- (a journal entry from 6/08)
"Quick argument for the sexual revolutions' potential contributions to human longevity"
It all comes down to this: illuminating the taboo...
Anal bleaching gets us talking about our asses. Breast implants get us talking about... BOOBS! And there seems to be no end to the things we don't know about ourselves, just as there is no end to the pleasure one can receive in relaxing into the exploration of one's sexual faculties.
A stress reliever + physical equalizer, the erotic act, and the extent to which it can be discussed/shared + generally fessed-up to, is a powerful tool for life-long education. By doing so, we expand the possibilities of our nature and quite possibly the lifespan of our species.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Book of Matches
Folks-
First Post! I'm finding that I could use a new outlet on the web and I enjoy this particular blog format, so here goes. Hope to satisfy with a poem and pix of some tasty graf from a recent trip to New Orleans. Stay awesome.
- -
Book of Matches-
Window
white wash cement
Past park
embankments captured
by sculptures of men
City tide
thickened in brick
made mad to siren
and falling children.
Cigarettes, pizza.
almost cheap as free.
Stopped to read
sidewalk covenant
bristling by
excuseme
and
thankyou
The polite sneer
pressure stop
over gates to guiderails
Instant
summer
disappearances.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)