Saturday, August 09, 2003
SOOOOO, I took the "what ((hidden)) emotion are you" quiz, whose link I found on rumandmonkey.com, [they are my suppliers of 'weapons of mass destruction']...anyway, my answers were pretty cute and upbeat...you'll find my results below and to the right...WOW! I guess that's why they call it a ((hidden)) emotion...hmmm...lot's to ponder in my eighth dimension...
Friday, August 08, 2003
I
Today, the rain came and it was wondrous
My heart beat loud as the thunder
As I watched through split panes
And I opened the door, slapped by the heat
Sweat pouring, thick as the air.
Steam rose from the hot black top.
More decibels lost and the day goes on
To be glorious.
II
I just needed to be around skin and bones,
And a voice not mine.
Today, the rain came and it was wondrous
My heart beat loud as the thunder
As I watched through split panes
And I opened the door, slapped by the heat
Sweat pouring, thick as the air.
Steam rose from the hot black top.
More decibels lost and the day goes on
To be glorious.
II
I just needed to be around skin and bones,
And a voice not mine.
Thursday, August 07, 2003
The silence is deafening. I want.
The music someday will fade. I fear.
And we will part ways. I regret
Only the loss of you, not the knowing.
I can only love freely and openly.
When I take a step it is mine to take.
I have never lost balance,
Only stepped lightly, skirting the edge,
Looking back, recalling the beat of my heart,
The exhilaration.
The music someday will fade. I fear.
And we will part ways. I regret
Only the loss of you, not the knowing.
I can only love freely and openly.
When I take a step it is mine to take.
I have never lost balance,
Only stepped lightly, skirting the edge,
Looking back, recalling the beat of my heart,
The exhilaration.
It began in restlessness and unto sadness yet it creeps.
I want. Along the lines of listlessness I tiptoe, careful not to fall.
The one thing holding constant is that not mine that cannot be kept.
Cannot be held despite the strength of craven desire, and the deep red crush
That bleeds in the anguish of struggling forth and shedding skin.
I am only sure of wanting one thing.
I want. Along the lines of listlessness I tiptoe, careful not to fall.
The one thing holding constant is that not mine that cannot be kept.
Cannot be held despite the strength of craven desire, and the deep red crush
That bleeds in the anguish of struggling forth and shedding skin.
I am only sure of wanting one thing.
All my thoughts and all my woe, I fictionalize, rationalize. But in the end I sleep a sometimes not too deep sleep and rise again, yet weep still. It’s ok to love honey...I said back a few days. Well, it's ok to leave honey. I wept before you as I will weep after you. I slowly come into focus, though it will take yet a while longer. YOU set a spark to tinder and there's no course except to burn. And I wish it were something you would stay to watch unfold. It will be difficult. It will be beautiful, just like the way you make me feel.
Monday, August 04, 2003
I love you, Daddy, you were never there, but so like you, I see reasons. I understand. I love you, though, because you never judge. And if now is the best time of your life? (And admittedly when we three were small.) I wish you joy. I thanked Annie for this, because, well, when I asked how you were, your response to me? Fantastic. And what about me? Well, I'm absolutely, gloriously, beautiful. I'll see you in October and we'll stand on the terraced ground you built for her, and we'll look out over the sound at the ships in a Grande silence of being. See you soon, and I promise I will try never to judge, only love unconditionally, like you do.
Revision...
I
When did my nipples grow larger?
My breasts heavier?
My hips take on flesh?
When did I become beautiful in my own right?
Comfortable in my own skin?
And was it about that time or later that I grew restless?
Later, I think, much later -
After sadness, after despair,
And but certainly just before I met you.
It is only since that I realize.
I am on the cusp of infinite possibilities,
And the personification of peach evolves.
II
As a new girl steps forth wide eyed and willing,
She is not that one that got drug out,
Kicking and screaming into the world,
And not the one since.
Ah, these years that end three.
I
When did my nipples grow larger?
My breasts heavier?
My hips take on flesh?
When did I become beautiful in my own right?
Comfortable in my own skin?
And was it about that time or later that I grew restless?
Later, I think, much later -
After sadness, after despair,
And but certainly just before I met you.
It is only since that I realize.
I am on the cusp of infinite possibilities,
And the personification of peach evolves.
II
As a new girl steps forth wide eyed and willing,
She is not that one that got drug out,
Kicking and screaming into the world,
And not the one since.
Ah, these years that end three.
Sunday, August 03, 2003
I
I stretched back in response to your hands...
II
I think too much. And if I imply, I don't mean to, and hope you'll always ask me to clarify. I appreciate the unconditionality of our friendship, its simplicity and straight forwardness. I appreciate your patience in walking me through my thoughts until even I know what I’m really thinking and what I really want. I am patient with your silence and stand back...I can do this for you. I am growing...
III
All those years of simply being,
The stillness,
And now when I need to tap that source
I am restless,
Thinking.
I stretched back in response to your hands...
II
I think too much. And if I imply, I don't mean to, and hope you'll always ask me to clarify. I appreciate the unconditionality of our friendship, its simplicity and straight forwardness. I appreciate your patience in walking me through my thoughts until even I know what I’m really thinking and what I really want. I am patient with your silence and stand back...I can do this for you. I am growing...
III
All those years of simply being,
The stillness,
And now when I need to tap that source
I am restless,
Thinking.
excerpt from "Glorianna"...submitted to an editor today...cross your fingers, shugar, cause your my lucky rabbit's foot...
I left the sane world behind when I lit out on the Interstate at five that morning with a full tank, the top down, and a run creeping steadily down my left thigh on a clear path to my ankle. But I had receive a call late the night before that couldn’t be ignored, “Your daddy’s dead and your momma ain’t doin’ so good.”
My daddy was dead? That man wasn’t my daddy, but no one except me ever seemed to understand that; Coop, was always just Coop. He was married to my mother when I was nine or so, and lived in the same house I did, but that’s about as far as it went. He was there, I was there, and we never really shared the same space at the same time. I didn’t call him father, sure as hell didn’t call him Daddy, and probably spoke so little to the man that I didn’t have to call him much of anything. When I referred to him at all, however, it was always as Coop, short for Mr. Cooper, just like everyone else. It wasn’t that I hated the man, but by the time Coop came along, I was old enough to have formed a few opinions of my own and accepting him as my daddy, letting him take my real daddy’s place, just wasn’t in me.
I left the sane world behind when I lit out on the Interstate at five that morning with a full tank, the top down, and a run creeping steadily down my left thigh on a clear path to my ankle. But I had receive a call late the night before that couldn’t be ignored, “Your daddy’s dead and your momma ain’t doin’ so good.”
My daddy was dead? That man wasn’t my daddy, but no one except me ever seemed to understand that; Coop, was always just Coop. He was married to my mother when I was nine or so, and lived in the same house I did, but that’s about as far as it went. He was there, I was there, and we never really shared the same space at the same time. I didn’t call him father, sure as hell didn’t call him Daddy, and probably spoke so little to the man that I didn’t have to call him much of anything. When I referred to him at all, however, it was always as Coop, short for Mr. Cooper, just like everyone else. It wasn’t that I hated the man, but by the time Coop came along, I was old enough to have formed a few opinions of my own and accepting him as my daddy, letting him take my real daddy’s place, just wasn’t in me.
excerpt from " memoir de l'esprit de l'escalier"...a short story yet unfinished...
I found a cool place off the key, a small inlet where we would go to explore, the breeze finding us beneath the Mangrove trees, our small feet skirting the thin edging of sand. Where there was no beach at all, we would wade, knee deep to dodge swarms of mimis laying in wait, but careful not to step on beach glass or coral. A few days during the fall, it was almost cold, and the cool salt air felt good against our too flushed cheeks. Mes Anitas was a child then, her little hand in mine. But I, I was never a child. My body had always stirred for her, even when Herman and I still wore the short pants to church, and she lay against her maman's breast.
I found a cool place off the key, a small inlet where we would go to explore, the breeze finding us beneath the Mangrove trees, our small feet skirting the thin edging of sand. Where there was no beach at all, we would wade, knee deep to dodge swarms of mimis laying in wait, but careful not to step on beach glass or coral. A few days during the fall, it was almost cold, and the cool salt air felt good against our too flushed cheeks. Mes Anitas was a child then, her little hand in mine. But I, I was never a child. My body had always stirred for her, even when Herman and I still wore the short pants to church, and she lay against her maman's breast.
Revisions:
I
I Fly
Ninety on the highway,
Sixty in a forty, and
Forty in an ess curve twenty.
Windows down,
Music high,
I wanna drag it out
Till the engine growls,
High and mean,
Till the chassis shakes
And the tires squeal.
I wanna break you
Like a new toy,
Consume you
Like no other,
Bleed you dry.
II
Back to me,
Framed in the door;
Lower back, thigh, buttock,
Smooth white flesh.
Then thoughtful, in repose,
Naked and divine
I come undone as
Restlessly, my heart swells
In a deep red crush.
Desire.
Still my favorite...
I tremble,
Want to speak, but can’t.
I hear your words,
They caress me, excite me,
Affect me.
And when we’re done,
We’re done.
I touch your skin,
Smell the air,
You move on as I move past.
I
I Fly
Ninety on the highway,
Sixty in a forty, and
Forty in an ess curve twenty.
Windows down,
Music high,
I wanna drag it out
Till the engine growls,
High and mean,
Till the chassis shakes
And the tires squeal.
I wanna break you
Like a new toy,
Consume you
Like no other,
Bleed you dry.
II
Back to me,
Framed in the door;
Lower back, thigh, buttock,
Smooth white flesh.
Then thoughtful, in repose,
Naked and divine
I come undone as
Restlessly, my heart swells
In a deep red crush.
Desire.
Still my favorite...
I tremble,
Want to speak, but can’t.
I hear your words,
They caress me, excite me,
Affect me.
And when we’re done,
We’re done.
I touch your skin,
Smell the air,
You move on as I move past.
Peach...soft and sweet on the outside, inside, a hard little seed.
Peach...sexual connotations in art and literature, the breast and buttock.
Peach...smooth skinned and fuzzy, cherished in the summer months.
Peach...pies, chutneys, jams, and jellies...versatile only to an extent.
Peach...the peach tree takes years to grow before it will bear fruit.
Peach...the Texas peach is smaller, less flesh, larger seed, so much better than any other.
Peach...ink on smooth flesh...picture coming soon...
Peach...sexual connotations in art and literature, the breast and buttock.
Peach...smooth skinned and fuzzy, cherished in the summer months.
Peach...pies, chutneys, jams, and jellies...versatile only to an extent.
Peach...the peach tree takes years to grow before it will bear fruit.
Peach...the Texas peach is smaller, less flesh, larger seed, so much better than any other.
Peach...ink on smooth flesh...picture coming soon...
Third month of testing. I already know that I’ll need the medication. I feel more beautiful now than ever. But my spirits remain low...is the ability to procreate the essence of womanhood? In May I was ecstatic. But she would have been a Capricorn...like me, and I would have known how to raise her. But any other, I just don't know...and my spirits continue to remain low.