cease

Posted: September 12, 2018 in Uncategorized

somewhere two oceans meet in a place where there is no wind. the doldrums are silent and still as two currents cancel out in a moment of collision.

sometimes the morning and i flow into one another and halt, and we stand together, silent, brimming with restrained tidal waves, our currents contained and bridled. and i feel the wind across my skin and time stills its flow.

if only for a little while.

 

ghost

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we talk in rivers. i have noticed them flow in the midst of our conversations. sometimes they slip serpentine as a whisper through the low meadows, quiet and hissing. sometimes they are more like five rivers vying like brothers in a tumult of froth and noise, wrestling their way through roots and organic mazes.

i had forgotten how much i enjoyed this aspect of my day to day.

 

ghost

sigh

Posted: August 31, 2018 in Uncategorized

fell asleep atop a torn comforter. woke to find it is not warm. realize my daughter has been here. there are three markers, two hair ties, and what i believe is a dark headed barbie digging into my thigh.

submitted a novel to the publisher late last night. chose a book cover, wrote the blurb for the back cover and the author bio, and answered every question my coordinator had for me. things are moving along at a steady pace.

why do i feel like i should be more accomplished than i am?

 

ghost

of poems

Posted: August 28, 2018 in Uncategorized

i suppose poems like me fare better written in people than in pixels or ink. my medium is movement and how i thread memory through time. i am art, like inky fluid or a sixth sense. i’m alright with riding the currents between life and need.

i prefer it this way, sleeping, dreaming, and waking beyond the soggy marsh of conventional institution. i like this world of open sky, where i can be reticent verse of two colliding moons, where i can punch as gently as a cloud through the blue.

like i said, my medium is movement. i have begun to suspect poems like me aren’t meant to survive the spaces i stop to occupy.

 

ghost

torrential outpour

Posted: August 22, 2018 in Uncategorized

i want to spit out every word i’ve ever heard in a torrent, in combinations distinctly my own and i want you to eat them. swallow them down. every. single. one. i want you to consume them all and know without a doubt who is feeding you.

i want to emerge from the torrent of diction and stake my claim to purpose, to set my flag on territory where so few others have ever set foot.

i want it so badly i sometimes choke on this dream of triumph.

 

ghost

hip hop and you don’t stop

Posted: August 21, 2018 in Uncategorized

i feel like i’ve dug deep enough through the earth’s crust to all the molten lava and i’m being crushed.  soon i’ll be a diamond.  i want to be worth a diamond. i want to release all air in my siren chest and scream out everything, every color and thick black line, every single idea at once.

i am in the Muse’s grip. she tugs but i am the force behind these shattered nails and this dissolving knee cartilage. i am even Muse blessed within my voidhood where i continue unraveling knots of the absurd.

you can’t hear me unless i speak, but i can’t open my mouth this far underneath the surface. i feel i’ve been worthless for millenia. i have been wordless since the dawn of time. i have not been dying at the hands of inaction, though.  i have never been guilty of inaction. my focus has been scattered.  that i can’t deny.

i have so many pieces due for the show in december. i feel like that rabbit from alice in wonderland.

gotta go gotta go gotta go.

ghost

i apologize for the absence

Posted: August 16, 2018 in Uncategorized

it’s nearly two and i can’t breathe in without umber and cream swirls. my eyes are tired and my will is stuttering in decay. or worse, remorse. that’s how it always is when i finally write the end.

i won’t complain, though. i have been as high as fire spit up from a decades’ ash. i’ve spent summer in my passion, spinning.

the new book will be out soon.

i am still dreaming.
ghost