Poetry/Prose

Great Glass Walls

Image credit: Mine, Beijing 2010

Image credit: Mine, Beijing 2010

Dear Anonymous,

I tried to write a note to you today but when I was about to send it, I thought of all the synapses that would fire in your brain and cause you to respond in the way that you would, because you think the things that you naturally do.

And I wondered in that moment, how many people I have loved had wanted to write to me but couldn’t because they knew the same …

… that some strange volition within me would take the purity of their words and feed an ego that just couldn’t know better at that time.

How many?

I wanted to tell you so many details. Things that would get lost on the way to your deeper wisdom. I have tried this before. I know. They will.

So now I will send you nothing at all–something more pure than the ego can touch. Something so subtle it overwhelms the world. Something that will never be said but somehow be known until the moment before we die or almost do–what is real, what is true.

There is no me. And there is no you.

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Poetry/Prose

Just Be Fame

fame1And I think you know it’s rare.

For someone to see.

You.

Facing insecurities.

Out of control.

In control.

In between.

Waiting in lines.

Wondering.

Crying in secret.

Chewing cheap gum.

Fumbling with your iPad.

Like everyone else.

How could you not?

When I saw you, I saw a person.

Not a picture.

Not a title.

Not a name.

I looked at you.

Heard your voice.

Answered your questions.

Wondered what you were hiding.

Because you had to.

Heard what you were hiding.

Despite you.

What you assumed about me.

It wasn’t.

Projected–it could only be you.

And I loved it.

The mysterious gap.

That revealed everything.

You thought you hid.

I spoke with you.

Measured.

Sincere.

As if you were a merchant.

And I tended to you.

As if you were my fleeting customer.

And I think you know it’s rare.

For someone not to care too much.

But just enough for you to know.

I do.

For someone to trust nature.

More than temptation.

To put you higher.

Than human.

There is no fame in a moment.

Unless I am famous too.

And when I turn around.

I see all the layers.

That separate you.

From everyone else.

And I wonder why.

Anyone would want this.

Fame.

And I sense.

You’re the kind who never wanted it.

As much as it wanted you.

Like a mother wants her child.

To come in and wash his hands.

And sit at his place at the table.

As much as it challenges you still.

To believe something it tempts you not to.

That you have nothing to prove.

Don’t worry; I see, and your secret is safe with me.

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Poetry/Prose

elf-600-still

Talk to the person who seems the most opposite to you

Maybe they turn you off, annoy you a bit, even scare you

Talk to them, and love that part of you that you hide from yourself

That part they were lingering around to help you find

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Poetry/Prose

Stranger (A Winter’s Night, Upper East Side)

Talk

Wondering

Wandering

Exchanging

What sisters do

In the soft

Hectic light

Of the bar’s edge

Coats draped

Constant movement

Drafty door

Shoulders shrugged

Eyes darted

Silently screamed

Somebody shut it

Reds

Whites

Blues

Observations

Flighty neighbors

Found their tables

Some lady left

And he landed

Plugged his eyes

Two people down

Into my face

Distraction

Wandering

Exchanging

What strangers do

In the soft

Hectic light

Of the bar’s edge

She asked me

What’s happening?

I replied:

Tell you later

Turned my fork

Pretending

To listen

To eat

To think

Of anything

But finally turning

To the pull

Of his eyes

For a second

We saw everything

Haunting us

I turned away

Looked down

Adjusted my shirt

My sister shifted

Cracked a joke

Unrelated

We laughed

Bruised his ego

Split the bill

Closed our coats

We knew

They were no match

For such cold air

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Poetry/Prose

Because Sugar is Sweet

Image courtesy: rarityguide.com

Image courtesy: rarityguide.com

We all have to let go

Of our religion

Someday

 

The candyland that bred us

Birthed and licked us

With its sugary tongue

Must melt

 

The way we thought we dreamed

Must succumb

To a bigger fantasy

 

When I say I’m happy to see you

I tell the truth

 

When you ask me if I love you

I go silent

Not because I don’t know

But because I know

And so do you

 

It’s so much bigger than that

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LostInTranslation

Art

Lost in Translation (August 2014, Gouache)

Image
Poetry/Prose

Never Hide (from Allison)

Feelings

Formless

Real

The world’s worth

Pack of children

Pound at your heart

Fearless, naked, intent

Clinging, laughing, crying

Begging?

I will never be a man

Folding his arms

Shaking his head

Wagging his finger

At wisdom’s pearls

These children

My business

Everyone’s business

Making love with liberty

We bear its children

Seeded

Deeper and deeper

Silken knots

Released

Past is present is future

Generations generate

Distractions

Sit still!

Master alone

Tend to the children

With quiet hours

Invisible

Inaudible

Impalpable

Imperceptible

Hyperreal

Nothing but nature

Everything but words

Roared by a lioness

Who smells ego’s lips licked

As it eyes her cubs

Bears its wordy teeth

Salivating, speaking

“Intense”

Roar!

“Shameful”

Roar!

“Embarrassing”

Roar!

“Wrong”

Roar!!!!

Stillness

Death

Resurrection

Transformation

Emergence

A blinding flock of white doves

Soaring, soaring, soaring

Diving anywhere

Over dinner’s table

Children

Spilling over

Between friends

Onto the floor

Flooding the room

Flooding the streets

Flooding the times

We are most alone

Together

Every naked motion

Running fingers

Through the waking man’s hair

Cycles

Reunions

Never alone

Ever

In stillness

Children gather

They sing

Of bigger plans

Than we will ever know

 

 

 

 

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