you waited for me in madrid
your presence granted me pain in granada
within breaks of pain i was granted joy in segovia
i truly remembered how much i love you in toledo
you hated me in seattle
i learned love without pain is not love
you granted me life
I open the windows when it rains
I watch the sky drown the earth the same way the pain of missing you drowns my soul
I smell the wet soil and think of home
of the way the mountains smell in April
of how the beach smells after a storm
With the waves crashing into droplets on the cities edge
I'm not religious but I pray that if I leave the windows open during the storm a droplet from Seattle will find it's way to me in the desert
One with salt from the Pacific and sap from the pines
I pray for a droplet from your home to find it's way into mine
Have you imagined in your turquoise dreams majestic mountains and seaside scenes?
Then go West my friend and come to me in endless summer, savoring fruits of joy in sun warmed shimmer....
love is what love is; i've always spoken it into monuments. their eyes would be pearls among cheeks captured in marble, and i spent a lot of time time tracing bone to bone over the bridge of my nose thinking if my touch is the same as others'. love is what love is and i've acted as Midas. under all the suns kisses are dandelions, we run through the blossom. in the scratched blackheads there's pollen and i lie fetal as a raisin and whisper "**** it out". break my shoulders, whiten your hands, **** it out.
love is what love is; I've started to wonder if raindrops ****. intimately, so the pollen pours out at paint's pace. love is what love is what's real is what's slow. i can count blackheads among vacuum suction marks. water trickles down the post, jogs after each other 'til one catches the other in matrimony. i wonder if they ****, if they love, and if the rising action is longer than what i have to live. but love is what is, slowly but surely. moments in time can't be lost if rain ***** forever.
I met a girl in the city once who
Was the emerald of Seattle
She loved the arts
And the passion of the
Common man -
It was inspiring
The countryside is all wrong
And I believed her
The sidewalks between
Coffee shops and bakeries
Vacancy and marketing
Businessmen and the homeless
All these people
Like mantises feeding on
Each other's heads and hands
All this opportunity
Then she was swept away
At the light of the
Next city crowd we passed
So I went home again
I met another
From my city who
That art is all wrong
And that dried all the
From my heart
But I believed her
So I followed her along
To find out what
And it was
That was never
Satisfied by just one man
But I think
Was scared of
If you're unclear about love,
return your heart to a place with fog
With clouds created from breathing in the cold during long uphill walks that end in a view of the water
Return the way daylight retreats to the grey embrace of the Pacific Northwest sky at the edge of winter, dissipates in all directions like ripples upon their misty bay
Return the way sunset colored leaves hanging in limbo fall back to Earth
Visions to pieces
Tears to eyes as condensation builds
against the glass of a coffeeshop window and distorts the view from outside and from within
Return the way rain lands on a broken sidewalk in Seattle,
not pouring so much as drifting
through what looks like a new morning
blurred with all the dark nights that came before.
Seattle is where it's okay to bury your head in the clouds,
where it's acceptable to walk beside and among their sad water
Here, the greys of puddled sidewalks
give way to deeper greys that extend beyond the reach of their docks
This is the place where you can get to any level of cold and wet, only to be steps away from any given coffeeshop and the steam from a mug held with two hands
This is where you'll wake up and face the rain sans umbrellas
where you'll gain an aesthetic to the gloom, a poise to the overcast
Shrouded in mist at the far corner of the map, you'll draw your energy
in harmony with the ups and downs of their multi-storied fish markets and undulant streets
Here, you'll find your path through faded daylight and breathe in air embalmed by hundreds of rainy days
You'll exhale the weight you carry within your chest into a healing view of a horizon lined by ferry boats,
there to take you across whatever darkness you're faced with at day's end.
I long for those nights flowing through
The veins of the city with you,
Watching the wind dance a waltz with
The leaves at our feet just for us
Swept along the waterfront as if
Carried by the waves themselves
A phantom limb passing through
The body of a lover, unnoticed yet
Still taking in every single feeling
Where do you run when your loneliness strikes?
It's just about midnight, while you stroll downtown glaring at the lights.
All over creation, I see the lust of the world,
while pride tries to draw me in.
Can't you see what PornHub has done?
As I sat in front of the garden of Eden,
I watched others stand in line waiting for their fruit.
Oh, how deceived I was.
Being ****** made the loneliness worse I was numb to it.
We're all lost,
overly using the wrong Messiah such an Urban Legend.
These apples had my heart but never caused me to Have A Heart.
I certainly almost surely died,
from the tree of knowledge of good and evil.
Admit it, we are all lonely.
Psalm 25:16, Matthew 28:20, Romans 8:31-38,