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Posts Tagged ‘fresh’

Tell for Today

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on March 14, 2014| 13 Comments »

I like the stories that tell of cotton trees. With free balloons’ held temporarily in branches. Where a kid cries below because their favorite yellow floated off too far. Where the breeze smells like a feeling. And feelings trigger childhood memories and swampy geese that push through thick algae, and fat locusts that buzz regardless of location, repeatedly bumping into screens. Where little boys did unspeakable things to lightening bugs and little girls protested. Where the lightening bugs were a plenty. Where lightening bugs called in the dusk. Where the dusk was met by the tippiest-tips of the willow trees, tickling the new-now-shade cerulean sky.

I like the stories where strangers stand pigeon toed, unaware of spectators. Where their petticoats carry a mystery-feather from someone else’s journey. Where their shoes aren’t as shiny as they imagined them to be. Where they are perfectly imperfect. Where they can be used as innocent templates to ad-lib, never knowing their role in a passerbye’s made-up-tale.

The stories where markers squeak across train cars windows and lovers names are written up and crossed out with dizzying repetition, and for-a-good-times’ are scrolled liberally. Where teens smoke angel dust between the cabooses and get hyped on fresh lyricism and sexy pulse beats. Get hyped on tunnel wonderment. Get hyped on honeys’ hi-tops.

I like stories where people make metaphors out of toast, or the common area, time travel, violins, or maybe the color grey. Stories full of description dripping. The ones bordering tangibility. Where the writer held nothing back. Where transparency reigns.

The stories where I am surprise-kissed in the rain, in the middle of some city park while we casually walk through.

The stories that spark late night scramble drawings. Where palms get inky and paper, promised to words. Tattooed to its’ truth.

Can I ask for your allness? Is too soon such a thing? If I died tomorrow it would be a shame. So speak please, like wild horses. Free. Like a passing condor. With white magic. Not like a stegosaurus. No. Don’t be too late.

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Go On, Bright Sky

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on August 26, 2013| 8 Comments »

Part 1:

You tell me- how can I not invoke the cosmos when I’m writing? It’s a tricky thing to keep at bay when I have no control of the tides.
How can I be expected to leave the moon where it was? These arms gotta hold for something and who wants a bunch of armor or perishable groceries  taking up space when tales of Venus are tugging at your tongue.
The epic love story lays in the ether, wondrously waiting it’s bounce. That finicky thing.
These hips of mine await the rhythm- the pulse of ozone before the pour.
Perpetual motion.

Part 2:

-unrelated-

These songs we create. These sketches we doodle. These seemingly insignificant sweet little diddys’. With the proper frame work they are great achievements because we allow our minds to wander into realms of the unseen and uncharted. We let roam and go spin cycle. We free range.
Here we are now, who knows for how long, standing, sitting, laying on this earth. We are fashioned to make. Fashioned to connect. Built to link- in the physical, in the mental. Here we are, the trees bare gifts, our hearts and minds the same. We are abundance from the smallest of ways: humming while we prepare food, to creating feats like the Sistine Chapel. La Sagrada Familia. And here we are still.

Even if you don’t think you’re very good. Even if a white piece of paper seems daunting- it is your duty, in a sense, to exercise your creative mind. So open up and sing and feel real good.

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Aho

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 17, 2012| 12 Comments »

Today I stomped the ground in careless play, noticed the reverb of hollow from below. Pounding above a bomb shelter, a tunnel, a tomb? Above all in absent awareness…

…Calling for a dig exceeds my jurisdiction but if I had the power, the earth would be pocketed in curiosity, and restored rapidly in vigilant remorse, for better or for worse.

I recall clearly as a child, a teacher telling class that the Native Americans we so romantically studied lived where our houses were. My house. A top ancient secrets. Those powerful beings who understood the tangibility of seasons, ran through crisp, blue corn fields, made with callused fingers- beads of dried piñon berries, lived nobly herding flocks, believing in coyote medicine…

I had the presence of mind to know that their reign extended beyond the small stretches of my yard. Most likely to at least the perimeter of my block, or ”la manzana”, as my pops called it. I came home that day to scour the ground and blacken my baby nails in dreamy hopes of turquoise treasures, dulled arrowhead, bird bones. Nothing ever came of these missions. Time would give way to something shiny, some tinsel or so, leading my excavation, my excursion- to press on in whispered hope.

bow arrow

During the time of year where the leaves find themselves tossing in tiny tornadoes, and the cold makes scarlet our cheeks, I will be greeted by the painfully beautiful scent of burning cedar. Instantly I transport to the vast expanse of my time living on the rez with the Dinéh people, an event that was lead by the hand of my earlier fascination and curiosity.

I breathe in and hold.

Smoke, providing a background where images dance and bob. Broken relics of poetry and dry dirt. Old woman of long braid and woven skirt. Counting sheep. Snapping sage brush. Being followed by a pack of loyal, rag tag dogs with each step. Awaking before dawn with purpose to ensure warmth by lighting the fire…
With that smell I am carried, and not a moment too soon.
I am living simply. I am living at peace. I am living with full intention. The red earth stretches for days and I revel in wonder about what tales are beneath.

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Haiku Break Part 3

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on September 14, 2012| 14 Comments »

Mom told me never

trust a man in a trench coat-

bunch of pervs out there

*****

Because every day

I see you outside, first thing.

Neighbor, get a life

*****

I pee way more than

the average person or

is 30 normal?

*****

My best friend’s brothers

tortured him when he was young-

hair clippings in pants

*****

What an unlucky

incarnation to be a

dung beetle. no thanks

*****

*****

I might have sex with

my iphone if there was an

app that could please me

*****

I am a poet

I know it. Don’t question me

obvs. you’re just jealous

*****

Whenever it’s hot

outside- I am so thankful

that I don’t have balls

*****

Inconvenience is

dandruff with a preference for

wearing mostly black

*****

I am not alone

in painting just the toes that

show through my peeps-shoes

*****

*****

I’d rather not go

if it means that I have to

see your stupid face

*****

You could be so cute,

so here’s a razor; a gift!

bye bye to mustache

*****

When riding bikes it

is ill advised to blow

a snot rocket up wind

*****

Little kids are cute

but made of germs and rubber

fall and sneeze often

*****

His shoes smelled like sex.

How did he do that? Had me

grossly confounded

*****

 

*****

A more respectful

way to say it would be “Bros

before Does!” I’m good.

*****

Mr. Face Tattoo

“upstanding citizen”

holy commitment

*****

Penny for your thoughts

I’d surely get a nickel

ignorance is bliss

*****

Feel the magic beat

Shake what your mama gave ya

don’t step on no toes!

*****

Just cause we made out

doesn’t mean I like you. Blame

it on the whiskey

*****

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Mist & Musk

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on March 28, 2012| 13 Comments »

If you listen right, you can hear dreams crackling loud. It’s just an unexpected source is all.

The air is coated with paradise soft burning scents in exotic spice and bittersweet mandarin.

Somewhere not too far- a sultan and sea goddess enact a love scene. Enraptured.

Deserted beach shores glisten where giant blue whales share exchanges several meters off shore, hidden by the protective reflection of the new moon.

Their song mesmerizes hardened sailors, who’s whiskey bites and swishes forth and back.

Mermaids whisper promises:                                                                                                                                                        

You can run with me on dry land, my dearest darling                                                                                                                  

Just come swim with me here, now                                                                                                                                                      

The water is divine                                                                                                                                                                                 

Can’t you see the emeralds of my eyes? My ruby lips? My long black hair…

Mar dwelling bird’s wings rise and lift. Effortless.

Gone with the wind

Riding on the current

Trusting in the flow

The sun and moon are polarized- held to scale at equal, opposing ends of the sea.

Someone somewhere so taken by the beauty of the moment asks no one in particular if such a sight can be too strong and pure to be true?

Can something so simple as a vision be developed enough to lie? And if so, why would it?

Tropical trees tremble and shake- slower than sleepy sloths traversing inky, brimming, green~ where leave’s brushing sounds like~
yes      yes      yes

Bled and scraped by coral are so many knees, intensified from salt intrusion. Stinging. Penetrant.

Little, sinewy, brown boys play games at sunset, invading underwater castles. Small whittled swords. Would you dare challenge?

Every wise pirate has their golden mean.

Imaginations so vivid, owners of sheer will; one day to manifest and walk with their father’s stride; sleek, proud, agile.

The fathers who visit taboo isles of allure with mistresses of the night, debauchery, and tall tales each bigger than the last.

Stepping out in habit to hail the dark, enveloping blue, and scathing the cruise ships for all riches.

Surrender to a life of survival.

Never to fully embody rest, so fantasy must suffice. Sleep fills those pores

Cooling, fanned with palm fronds

Soaked in Kava, preserved in plant medice

Dancing drunkenly, always with one wild eye opened…

Until all the treasure has been knocked up from beneath the sand.

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India Arie: The World Must Know

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on February 16, 2012| 10 Comments »

Can this be any cuter? This woman is hands down one of my favorites.

There are times that I have had where her voice, strength, courage, positivity, inspiration, openness, and heat has carried me through.

Love love love love love loooooove.

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Spanish Town

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on December 20, 2011| 7 Comments »

I want to live where the wild Ginger grows.

I want to set up shop amongst the racket of howler monkeys that shriek at the warm, sleepy, star dusted dawn. Everyday. Reliably.

I want to look down at the ground and kick at fat grubs with my barefoot feet, and feel the virile earth give just a bit; just enough to let some air out and give the worms some work to do for no good reason in particular.

I desire the smell in the air of mysterious and magnificent, unnamed tropical flowers that are very red and robust,  screaming pinks, bold charming candied yellows. I want to pluck them for my tea after humming a new tune of gratitude that I just made up because the inspiration is so damn thick that it is simply oozing- wet and juicy all over the place, where I stand drenched in the generous gifts of rhythmic cobalt full magenta golden song and hot spellbinding aqua haunting ocher poetry. 

A place where art is never dormant. The spark of creation ignites and burns burns burns, creating an absolute ruckus of overturned firey beauty.

Where I just can’t get any sleep and no- not because I am unrested but because the jungle hums and churns and I know to listen, as I am actively learning secrets of the ancients and what it is like, and what it takes to live housed and homed in the middle of la selva.

Little green snakes will slither clear and not slip into my favorite shoes.

A place permeated with the scent of  fresh tortillas. Todo fresco. Tierra local. Harvest practices relied upon for generations. Methods of sowing and reaping on dial with the waxing and waning of the solar system  itself. Stone ground and pounded with experience, hardened hands, hardy laughter, crows feet on faces for days.

I want to bathe in tepid waters of mineral pools, cleansing my mornings in mud and waterfalls. I will run my fingers through my hair and let the little pieces of leaves and sticks stick around like they picked me on purpose.

Let me live in Spanish town. Some where, somehow, someday. Where colors are brilliant, where the plants dance along, where old stories are revered and passed on, where we feel exuberant and incredibly alive because home is where the carazon es.

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Sucky Sucky

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on December 1, 2011| 11 Comments »

Ah life. You are so impermanent. Your lessons so abstract albiet poignant. What are we here for but to enjoy and decipher your cryptic meanings.

Talking to a friend yesterday, she referred to life’s changes as “shiftings”, implying that it’s a steady, time-staking thing- the changes, that is; and not something to expect to see happen over night. I like to refer to these shifts as growing pains, which makes me feel like my pain is not in vain and is heading in a purposeful direction.

One of the big things my  X liked to drill into me was how you gotta know your flaws. At the drop of  a hat. Know what you’re bad at, where your short comings are, and what you stand to correct. These things should be glaring at you. It was always hard to me to give it all up like that, despite being aware of some…. Can you believe I have flaws?

Unbeknownst to him, I have been compiling a list all the while. My shit list. My very own shitty shit list of what makes me terrible and of what I suck at. Do be warned that it’s relatively topical and superficial, though a step in the right direction of accepting my ugly, unskilled, and not-so-hot-side. Perhaps even a shot at embracing them and “shifting” things a bit.

Are confessions and belittling one self a positive? I don’t know, but I feel like coming clean. Perhaps an ode to you-know-who-you-are. Hope your satisfied, guy…

Generated list of things I suck at:

I. Roman numerals. I will attempt to keep this tally numbered by using them to act and serve as exposing proof of my inability to use them. I don’t even like them, but whatever. Base ten and up are just fine by me, thank you.

II. Biting my tongue when some one has a celebrity look alike. I get excited. I’m sorry. When I told that girl that she looked like Kimmy Gibler from Full House, I meant it as a compliment. I said she looked like her, not that she acted like her! Big difference. Besides, didn’t she know? She really didn’t have to get so mad. Just sayin’. There are occasionally people that I will meet that look like the black version of or the white version of so and so. Do you ever get that?  Anyway, I do feel like I deserve some credit, because I managed to keep it inside when I met that guy who looked like Jon Lovitz. Close call. A proud moment of feigned silence.

III. Rushing in the morning. Yeah. I like my time. People that pop out of bed and run around are a different breed. I will wake up 1.5- 2 entire hours early JUST so I can have a leisurely morning. Stretch, walk the dog, make a smoothy~ all very important pieces to my peace of mind. (Plus I would be chronically late if I didn’t, and that’s not to say that I’m out of the weeds on this). ( I think being on time would be the bastard cousin of this Roman Numeral Three, perhaps even meriting a Numeral of it’s very own.)

IIII. Cutting bread. How do people get such clean and thin slices when it comes as a whole? This seems like a no brainer but seriously, how do you not squish the loaf (hot!), or cut too thin/ thick. I’m not even kidding. Is anyone capable of impressive slices? I’m over all pretty good with my hands but…

V. Snowboarding. I biff right off the lift. It’s kind of making me feel crazy because I have some decent dexterity and agility. I can dance, baby! And most of my good friends do it, so I know I can… I just can’t stand sucking so bad at something that I spend so much money to do. Sponsor me!

IV. <Right??

Spelling correctly with ei or is it ie? Damn you, English. You are so bloody inconsistent.

IIV. I’m numerically in over my head, but didn’t it impress you until what 6 should be? Why thank you!

Exercising patience. I am a relativeley typical Aries woman, only in the respect that when I get an idea in my head, that’s it. That’s what’s happening. I get super enthusiastic and must have my way. Working on it.

IIIV. Sitting still. I have reached the point to where I can’t watch a movie with out fake-shopping for shoes in another browser. Yeah, really. Poster girl for Ritalin? Ok, pay me. I am way too fidgety to have a ”movie day”. That just sounds terrible, unless of course, I was terribly ill. Even then it’s hard to slow down.

IIIIV. Staying on a date that I realize I don’t want to be on. I know- it’s fucken rude. It’s rude and I’m sorry. I might see you in hell, but at least I won’t be bored to death. I have absolutely been know to run. I have left bars when the dude has gone to the bathroom. I know, it’s really bad, but this is confession time. And I am working on patience and presence. I know, I know; everyone has something(s) valuable to share. Either way, next time I’ll make up a better excuse instead of running out, or fake leaving the bar like I did tonight.

X. (Yes? 10?)

Road rage. It’s rough because people in Portland are the very slowest turners that I have ever seen. Furthermore, they stop at intersections when they don’t have a stop sign and no pedestrians are present. Those are just the tip of the iceberg. Get a bike, dicks!

IX. Meditating. O how I wish; how it would behoove me; what benefits and gentle rewards await my arrival… My mind is a race track at any given moment. My head-horses are either in full gallop, or are trotting through fields of wild flowers. They breathe heavy and moist, pulling my attention to their pastures. This also goes back to my  inability to stay still for an extended period. It’s like meditating makes me fat. I could be out jogging! I find it very challenging to calm the chatter.

Allright, I’m thinking that’s enough exposure for one night. Now you know what makes me the pits. Don’t hold it against me!

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Blossom to Fulfillment: on Positive Thoughts~

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 21, 2011| 4 Comments »

Within the seed of your desire is everything necessary for it to blossom to fulfillment. The law of attraction is the engine that does the work. Your work is just to give it a fertile growing place in order to expand.

— Abraham

A painting I made for a good friend of mine. A reminder that rewards come from efforts.

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Comfort

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 7, 2011| 16 Comments »

It is the Ocean that gives me strength and a sense of peace. I could never live too far from it or I might wither up into a sad little raisin. It is a place of mystery, awe, and wonder. It can be cruel and unforgiving; this I know, yet still it is a constant for me in returning home. It’s my coziest place.

It was a stormy, bleary day. The rain fell vertical. Our ponchos were plastered to us. We had the beach to ourselves for miles. It was invigorating and we felt so free. We had stopped and got some crappy pizza in a whole in the wall spot. Being New Yorkers, we are big time pizza snobs, but ate a bit as we walked along the shore, until I threw a piece into the air. Like magic, the seagulls came out of nowhere and followed us, catching pieces of dough in their mouths with each toss. I would estimate a flock of 20 something that followed.  It was magnificent!

My dog was going nuts about it. It really was an absolute blast.

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