a quick prayer.

“Kintsugi”

You found how to fill like gold to hold

together the cracks of my broken body,

an art form that requires destruction

of the formal self

followed by the acceptance of others

in order to create

completion.

Now in the land of

whites of their eyes

I hope I translate well.

For even though Asian pastures that

we’ve never touched

can pin us with exactness,

in farmhouse we have made our home,

and I have set my vase upon hope.  

technology is wrong

In another life, I think I would have seduced Johnny Depp. I think I would’ve been a rock star, The Tubes world tour. Holy shit, I would have been friends with Kevin Bacon. I wouldn’t have known you.  I wouldn’t have told you, with my eyes, why we must stay on earth. Erase it all. Is that what you want?  I want to know the new you, but the new you does not want to know me. What a shame. I forgive you, just like you have taught me. 

And I looked for that answer in everyone. In the movies, music, eyes of strangers, words, quotes, books, everything. But, I have yet to look for the answer in myself. What is the solution? The solution, above all, is to forgive. He doesn’t love you? Forgive. You messed up? Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. And through all this forgiveness, love will be found. But do not mistake love for images. Love is not a picture, nor a word, nor a set of rules. Love is, at least what I have found and believe it to be, seeing yourself in another and recognizing the parts of them that are not you by adapting them. I thought that was the message of Fahrenheit 451, with the mirror factory and all. Not so we can see ourselves, but so others can see themselves in us. I used to think writing is what made people immortal. That only the writers would live forever. But I was wrong. What makes people immortal is loving each other. We can all be immortal. We can hide ourselves in one another. 

magnetic poetry

Ideas.

Sometimes, the night air feels fluid. Eyes flicker rhythmically. With every glance, a song begins. The orchestra warms up. I look at him, scrutinizingly. A single note.  His scent. Boom. He’s behind me. Ba. He reaches for the cup next to me. Boom. Wink. Ba. People laugh. Boom. I stand aside, curiously. Ba. I look up at him. Boom. Wink. And it goes on, in that catchy fashion, as if everyone in the room is well aware of their synchronized actions. We almost got in a crash on our way home. I studied his face for a good 6 minutes. In the street, we kissed. He traced my mouth. How could I have left? We saw some cat cross in the road. A black cat, with unbending limbs and a bridge for a back. In each shadow it crossed, the cat disappeared. “It’s a ghost,” I wanted to say. He had to carry me to my door. 

~

And what I can pull from this is: Don’t try to hide yourself in others; It never works. Try to freeze time and you’ll never know the word Goodbye. Don’t you dare try to hide in dreams, either. It really never does work. In the end, postcards will flood living rooms for you. Everyone will wonder why you look off so frequently. To the sky or the ground. To each face. Once you hide, dearest, you are stuck. It is in the fine print. You will think you held time, but it is more elusive than that; don’t underestimate it. Don’t hide, don’t hide. They key is to be clever. Be present, and time won’t blow on your neck. Be present, and you won’t need shattered clocks. 

*Find me on  HitRecord too. I am trying to get my writing out there, big world. 

Beginnings

Recently, I have been thinking about where I want to go with my creative abilities and photography skills. I feel as though I am waiting for the perfect shot, and won't settle for less. I took a picture of my bed, because it is simple. I need to realize everything has the potential to be the "perfect shot" and that I need to go through many pictures to find it. Everything is just waiting to happen; just light the flame.

Bad film.

Bad News.