i sit in my apartment
alone and unconsciously
think of processies that happen

it's still there
sitting still inside those bars
the pages we drew together
not yet finished
will it still sit there
to many more chapters together, as they say
or
will it be covered in dusts
somewhere no one knows it exists

Why can't we just sit,
and wait until this becomes a memory.
Why can't we just fit,
out thoughts into the mold of a history-

We created this.
We created the turmoil,
The sky and the clouds,
That make our blood boil.

We have forgotten the silence,
In which our hearts beat.

Just sit and wait.
And this will all become a memory.
Just sit and wait,
And we will all become a memory.

sitting in the dark but not feeling alone.
just trying to hide from the crazy the world has shown.

in the rock and pause
let the roots envelop you
the growing embrace

in these stone confines
feel embers in veins of bark
the constant flicker

in this cave you know
give the breath of wind its due
the welcome whisper

You’re preparing me a table
In the valley
And we’re going to sit here
Just sit here for a while
You’re going to show me
The beauty in the darkness
Took me a while
To finally find it

<!>
inspired by a conversation with Maira Kalman


******* a name, adopt a persona, let my fingers do the talking,
place the instrumental sharp point tip upon the blankety blank paper,
maestro baton raised, coordinating,
the first sound, the vocal chords trembling,  
the first thought, the ultrasound image, entrance of a first violin,
coalescing into, into the initializing single primary phonation,
the stinging geometry of chance at last,
throwing  down the gauntlet, glove slapping, and the
tendons tense, the mouth opens, release and indentation,
a letter's curvature, a black and white downward stroking,
a sign is televised, revealed and released

a one way only sign

time bends knee, gravity suspended, terror morphs to
expelling rapid firefights of imagery needy for spacing,
even pauses mid-word  leave just this:

where is the in in
intimate?

are you the in in
inmate,
or the jailor at the gate?

you swear never again

until committing once more,

a sentence commutation, by committing a first sentence,

and the greater toll taken and paid for,

and the in in in-nate,
questions your sanity

happily


<•>

9/17/17 10:55pm

We each sit in silence,
punctuated by the scrape of canvas,
and while it takes a while for me to hear you,
to taste the essence of you,
- slowly your aroma filters through
your curves,
your creases
and I cease to see your flesh and instead
I see the palette of you,
embedded in the greying of you,
waiting for this, this view,
this interpretation of you,
while you sit in your steady state
of quiet undress