1Gypsy Asprin

you need to have some gypsy in you
some flight and a pair of wings
they hurt when they're sprouting
just like any transformation
a death in order to really begin
.it hurts.
just like that hr and 17minute phone conversation
with an old lover who can only say
"you haven't changed at all"
when you've changed so much he can't even notice
.it hurts.
when he threw out hundreds of handwritten love letters
"there wasn't enough space"
and you know there's a permanent space in his heart
or at least you hope. there better be
.it hurts.
when your new lover looks at you with wonder
believing that you are his little sprite his little fairy
the cocoon to his beginning
when your not sure if this beginning ever began
despite the hurt
somehow
the wings still sprout

something begins and something dies. all is one.

Kingdom Coming

do something beautiful today!
something great or just worth doing



what kind of man sends his woman this kind of love?

mine
mine
mine
mine
mine
mine
mine
mine
mine
mine
mine

this kind of kind is the king of kind.
mine?
mine

Thanks for calling

sometimes all we need is

a
little

lift

A Watery Blessing

When I am 90 years old what stories and scars will my wrinkles bare?


My boyfriend and I ventured out into the freezing rain to the local CVS for a needless pack of cigarettes. Although needless, the addiction was strong enough to lead us a little too far down the street in this raging weather. We decided to take the car to solve our woes but she was was equally unenthused about the trip in the cold. In my delighted packing haste, I forgotten all proper attire for such weather in central Pennsylvania. While shuttering, my chapped hands teetering at the edge of the frozen steering wheel, I tried to coerce the cold car into zooming down Market Street. I was so busy whining about my own goosebumps that I nearly missed him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a huge black mass waddling down the empty sidewalk. No one was venturing out of their homes at this moment, but it still felt like silence peered from their windows staring and doing nothing.

We continued into CVS, the trip quick and gratefully warm. The rain had begun to pick up and we went outside to smoke the first of the pack. I stood and silently watched the waddling figure. Trash bags and a  bottle of green liquid, black rain boots and a worn face walking directly into the blistering breeze. Where was he going?

We crossed the street and made the decision to offer him a ride.

Not thinking too much of the rain or cold or wind anymore, we approached him. he smiled and accepted. Before piling his bags upon bags into every nook and crannie of my yellow vw clown car he asked permission for his life, his stuff, to touch mine. He was wary of sitting on my seats and the friction between the garbage bags on the cloth interior. No hesitation. All was well. I was nervous tucking my belongings underneath seats for fear of his clefto hands. Not to worry, little bird. The car tinkered to a start and we drove a meer five minutes to his destination on the side of the road. He chattered about his hobby of roaming and a warm cave awaiting him on this eve of the hurricane. He was remarkably beautiful. He told me the last time people have done things like this was the children of the flowers. I am one of them.

We quickly unpacked the car off the side of the road and before we could jump back in he stopped and held our hands. He said a prayer for our kindness. Our gift to him. We released hot tears along with the freezing droplets. Got back in the tinker toy and drove unaware of the sopping seats.  

Blessed be these days. This love.

Spiced Tea

welcome yellow girl!
only make robots
she was a beautiful daughter
28
28
keep eating
quick tears
28
stand up and use the handkerchief
again

spiced black tea
its just lipton
with a dash of Iraq

Hitchcock the birds
bird in arabic
sounding like a gutteral
ch-u-rr-pa
tounge to the top of the teeth
the roof of the mouth

mama makes food with love

handkerchief and an old proud painting
no one discusses the garage
the blood
keep quiet
leave it all

again
keep eating
joy in the children
samuel like sam like same
what? no museums?
a nuclear physicist and a builder
sit on wooden stumps
on a concrete slab
oh, its the porch!
with the the mice
scurrying about their feet

now this is love.

X marks the spot

I was reunited with what I thought I would long forget
Yesterday over heat over easy I reminisced the bury in my belly
It felt runny

Now I am unsure.
I have a document
periods commas pages
all proving worth
it did exist
which is necessary
because everyone else forgot

Whether my grave wants to rise
with necks of corn starch and golden scars
the diagnosis proxies ubiquitous is still the same:

You have a cultural disease

I'm afraid I've lost the pill to pop
it dropped out of a small hole in my
denim.





Knowing myself I will resuscitate the zombie. Though Perhaps This Time He Will Be His Own Beast, Not My Own.

A Crunchy Breakfast

loving the lacquer
the film on my lens
a familiar place with not a single familiar face
i taste vegetable cream cheese
and the leftover juices
from our sleepless night

the time is now
for companions
and ingredients
and journeys

a "twitter bot"
fake follower
paid for by a company
to boost their numbers
what is a real person?
avatar interaction

mind bouncing
jesse's girl
wish i could show with my body
instead of my words

rock-a-bye ethiopain

at the end of coffee dad looks at me and says, "I know you are working with our children but they are not the problem,
we are.
We have problems.
I am sorry for the long talk without feeding you breakfast.
We can't do that right now.
Next time will will have our coffee ceremony for you."

he sat there with three 20 something year old suburban white girls on his couch. he swallowed everything, including his own coffee and the obvious gulps of pride to explain why he was working at a gas station, why he wanted to feed his family, why he couldn't think of the future, why we had a better life than him . despite his most recent indigestible digestion out of thimble brittish tea cups, all he could say was

"i need courage" with a slight gesture of a fist upward.meeksmile. eyesfrowning. maybe mona lisa had something similar to hide. he said easy to get hopeless. car broke. down. told his 9 yr old daughter birthday money fix the car. 

she responded, it is your car daddy, use your own money.

"we are the problem, not our daughters."

Meat & Meditation

September 11, 2012
He titled this
"Finding your power in Motion"

The lesson came so fast and so clear I thought I got it before I began. My power is so small. My ability to move the universe was small and embarrassing, but it describes how I feel at this point. The motion came fast along with my power. For some reason, I'm struggling to write it down. It makes sense. My power is a ring and is black and metallic. At first I was dissapoined when I saw CJs ring because I don't want my power to resemble his. its some kind of ring. I keep dropping it. It falls out of my hands every time I pick it up. Because it falls I have to take a few steps to bend over and pick it up.
(I'm staring at it and the ground the whole time)

So when I stand I'm surprised to see the new place I'm in. I develop a rhythm and it feels like this power is leading me all over the wold. I'm chasing it
(my intuition?)

and it takes me to these new places. I did not feel in control of it at all. I had to keep bending down and picking it back up and every time I was surprised to see that it had taken me to a beautiful place and then I dropped it again. I got frustrated and when he did this super speed all I could feel was the

rhythm of drop, bend, pick it up, quick look up drop again...

I got frustrated so I opened my eyes and I felt an intense pressure on my chest which made me sit up really straight and my neck lengthened. I got the message that
I was the humblest of Queens.

Who picks up what she has dropped with no pride. I realized the gift of this is at a time when I feel powerless or confused, my energy, my source can lead me in a beautiful direction.

It is humbling for me to be Queen and not have control.

another thursday at the office

ethiopian coffee in a british tea set

perfumed bread cakes

governmental assistance

provided the beans

instead, they kept giving

be gratitude, my humility.  

Poetry Workshop

i'm not seeking your approval
but i want you to feel like family

Stallion

real.
vulnerable.

Katie once asked me in a long car ride in her 1990 hunter green pathfinder, "When you first meet someone, what is one adjective that you would like them to take away after meeting you?

Genuine.


I learned today that vulnerability is the core of shame and fear...but it's also the core of joy, love, creativity, and belonging.

The best times in this city has been the times when I did things that terrify me. The time that I walked to a random house I didn't know to meet a group of people that said they were all meeting up on the internet. We drank homemade sangria and talked about the qualities of our most intense and valuable learning experiences. All of them involved connection and experiential learning.

connection--vulnerability. vulnerability--connection.

I've realized that I expect ultimate vulnerability from myself and my lovers in relationships. So far it has led me to magic. Absolute grace and deep cocoons of reproducing butterflies from the deep.

But in my life my jobs my day-to-day breathing...I have not graced myself with such vulnerability

yet

Reclaiming the Proclamation of a StreetSparrow

In this moment I feel fake. Like a fraud. Like I am trying so hard to write something or draw something or say something or feel something that sounds prophetic or cool or artistic. Are we all striving to be prophets? Before I lay me down to rest I am praying for openness. I strive to create without self judgement and the need for reward or approval or RECOGNITION. I want to write and draw and speak and feel in a way that is for the world, yet really, is simply proclaiming my light.
I will no longer be ashamed.
I have ghost eyes radiating a transparent spirit with a belly of fire and real wings upon my shoulders. Invisibility is my soul's couch, but I cannot hide indoors anymore.



Here is a portion of an incredible poem I heard today by Ken Arkind:

"You are louder than this.
A transmission,
sent straight through bullhorn of tongue,
by the soapbox that got lodged in your throat, on the day they told you to swallow your pride.
You are louder than this.
You are ruckus.
You are opus.
So shatter the silence and proclaim yourself,
turn up the melody so loudly that they never forget,
and hand the world your name,
like it was a gift."

Tasting

Right now I taste the blurriness of
the thin layer of buds on my
tongue. Coarseness, disappointment.
Roof of rubbing to smooth the
aches. Mr. Earl Grey is the culprit.
I trusted you for ease and peace.
Mouth betrayal. Tongue betrayal.
How long must I endure your crime?

Evolver Revolver Theatre Thoughts

SUMMARY OF THIS SECTION: One major principle from the evolution of performance spaces is the move from small enclosures (Church) to wide open spaces (town square and market place) to an even larger space (theatre), designated specifically for the art form. This spacial shift directly relates to the needs of the community: role of theatre as a religious teaching tool to art form requires a separate space outside of the Church, increasing popularity of theatre, and accommodations  a wide audience. Another major principle is that the role of the platea as the main speaking space is transformed into whatever the actor refers to it as, meaning the scene is established through the actors verbal command. Without the set technology or development, the actor asks the audience to suspend their disbelief in order to achieve the effect of multiple narrative locations.  

SUMMARY OF THIS SECTION: As time passes, theatre changes from community organized productions to individuals showcasing personal skills. The idea of a "celebrity" emerges as the focus  changes from theatricalized community rituals to theatre for economic profit. As a result of the newfound relationship between art and money, the importance of performance skills and technique increases. For example in the Medieval era,  rituals and festivals emphasize moral instruction through physical comedy, brass trickery, and heavy Biblical texts. Whereas in the Elizabethan era, the ability to transform into a character becomes an essential component for fame and success. 

SUMMARY OF ESSAY (1 general principle):

The evolution from Medieval rituals to Elizabethan institutional theatre reveals the shifting efficacious function of theatre depending on the cultural and social needs of society. In the Medieval era destruction, plague, and war were rampant. As a result, theatre developed as a tool for the Church to monitor faith and establish control among the chaos. Later tension grew between royalty and Church, therefore the pageant wagon processionals served as an attempt to merge the two powers. In the Elizabethan era theatre still contained religious ideas, but solely emphasized the struggles and triumphs of the royalty, again, highlighting the strain between Church and State. This shift also signifies a new cultural mindset in which power results from the individual instead of God. As a result, the need for religious teachings became less important as the financial success of citizens guaranteed power, thus theatre changed from a ritualistic tool to unite communities to institutional opportunities.

WhiteLotus :rabbit: :denison:

http://realwhitelotus.blogspot.com/2012/10/rabbit-denison.html
rabbit: you are pursuing resources, not happiness. happiness is now. kingdom come right now! that's what i say. resources are only as valuable as the life that lives in them. if you wait for a better future then you are missing the point. if you cannot achieve happiness in the present then you will not be able to achieve happiness in any present, whether you have resources or not!

centripetal forces

he said,
BOOKS ARE BRAVE

he said,
BOOKS ARE BRAVE

he said,
BOOKS ARE BRAVE

consume courage from the remnants of a giggle
Sam, the four year old.
begging to spin and twirl
to see the world move
the sun is the center
the earth is the center
Sam the center

"BOOKS ARE BRAVE"
beauty.

The Miller Man

 scrabble boggle cross the words cry about it
forget the reaction tip tables and loud alfalfa shit

                                              loving is simple said the miller man,
                                              its like the right answer on the SATs
                                              a fit
                   i never understood
                   cuz when i took the test, my palms listened to a's b's c's and d's
                   let the energy tingle my palm
                                             that's how i took the SATs
                   inward intuition tealeaves and them tarot cards
                   fitness is not a number but a bodily golden scar.

hold your nose!

poem in a rush
rush in a poem
didn't know i was writing poems
a sudden release
oops, just some gas in the universe
silent but deadly- - - -
i confess, it was me.

to to to to to to

i choose to watch tv
i choose to watch while i eat
i choose to disgrace my meal
i choose to arrive on time
i choose to watch children
i choose to wait out the week
i choose to count the hours
i choose to cut corners
i choose to feel or not
i choose to make nothing
i choose to dislike myself
i choose to ration meals
i choose to make

teatime

i drank 8 cups of tea today my love
8 cups closer to our arrival in the door
this place is freezing with no heat
suppose this will not be our first
our blanket surrounds us

i realize how often i've used us instead of i
as if your in this moment
8 cups of sleepy time tea my love
ease these thoughts

i would vow in the bedsheets
in this moment
no more timeframes or conventions
we never followed those anyways

Yes, Commander?

sit down and love yourself

Jacobean

i dreamt that my mother planned my 23rd birthday party
it was oh so sweet 16
screaming on the kitchen floor
no longer child
rather be with child
mother.

Signage

its like putting on fresh socks
and then stepping in a puddle on your bathroom floor

Blissedness

i'm in ours

our haven our love

trickle tickle hours

the air is cool

a rising bed

this blissed arrival

silence

patiently, our love

for these moments

love and truth and beauty

the pinnacle the pennultimate

blissed

Purge and Publish

It feels like the internet
the world
is vomiting information
overpopulated chunks

where is the plague? who will survive?
am i the next species? is he?

I laugh at my own darkness
who is this writer?
who is this moonlight?

when given the chance
i write of the eve
when i am child of sun

an epidemic eclipse
never good enough words chop chop

don't know how to use what i know
wish i could express through vomiting?
perhaps i've already purged the page
just press "publish" for a fancy guarantee

greEn

with eyes closed i blind myself
but last night, my love
a woman with hair of twine
did the job herself!

my blacks, my blues, my whites, my greys
now green
how i wish i could see mine horror
she stole my change

wander in new earthly greed
oh well
soul's bust before
to not look out: let them decide

An Experiential Kerplunk

A swan, a casualty
a kerplunk of lithium
an oopsie, my child

it's homey home schooled science!
no harm

what did you see my child?

throw
stand
watch



now notice the lapping ripples!
now notice the outward motion!
homey home schooled science success

experiential learning provide the most fruitful. my child.

Survival

I write to-do lists for survival.

If I organize every step of the way
every moment of my life
maybe the little boxes with my backwards lefty checks will help this life move faster to where I want to go?
Maybe I can climb the check marks to tomorrow or next month or next year?

I am beginning this life anew.
I have no knowledge.
Nothing to offer

Except my genuine. My honesty.

I'm not sure how to write or speak or express
I'm not sure of much at all

Except a need to write and speak and express

Ah what a dilemma, love.
--------------------------------------------------------

P.S. You said this would make me feel better. Tell the audience your truth. No hiding. On stage with bare skin and eyes like glass. Repeat.