As the fog fell over the city that morning she couldn’t help but notice that there was something more. She stood to cross to the window, but bumped the side table, sending a river of coffee cascading through her 1 bedroom apartment. 2 sugars, no cream. She walked to the window, neglecting the spill. She’d let the cat lick it up. Watching the city of amsterdam wake up was one of he greatest pleasures. however, this morning something felt bigger. she ran her fingers through her hair —which was a shade that couldn’t quite decide between blonde and brown therefore settling at a dingy gray color despite her age— in substitute of a hairbrush, grabbed her bag, watered the cactus, and set to the streets.
The city smelled of rain and cigarette smoke. The canals stood still, waiting patiently for the days visitors.
Crusty old lion
sits atop the fence,
a transient from the endless circus,
eyeing a prickly pear cactus flower.
Meditating upon its ephemeral beauty,
he asks the eternal question:
Fleeting flower of yellow and pink,
is the will to charm still there?
My son, how could I not
be charmed by your
exquisite roar, followed by
the delicate blooming of your innocence?
Then remember me that I
may remember our predicament!
- collaboration with Brian Oarr
When I had to leave I felt like I was leaving a part of me behind.
Like I had found some amazing new piece to the puzzle of myself
but I couldn't add it until I finished the rest.
It would end up being the last piece that brought everything together.
You were the piece that completed me.
But I had to leave.
And it hurt so bad.
I have this empty feeling.
Because the gap in this puzzle left a hole in my heart
That can not be filled with anything from anyone else
This longing to be with you has taken over me.
Everything I do, say, or think
makes it's way back to you.
Life is brutal. mimicking the way I cant be with you.
The beauty in this world vanished
when I discovered how beautiful my own world was
are my world;
that I can't be apart of.
After realizing how excruciatingly hideous this world is
and finding so much better
and dealing with not being able to be with you,
it has exhausted any drop of energy I had left in me.
Drained the light from my eyes
and placed this ache in my heart.
And Baby, I miss you so much.
The way the sun misses the moon,
or how a desert misses the rain.
Like a cactus misses a hug
or a venus fly trap misses a kiss.
There’s a bird perched on a tree high above me
Singing is what he does best.
As he’s singing, I try to sing along
And I’m waiting for affirmation
I’m wanting to know
If I’m singing this song right,
Or if I’m singing it wrong.
It’s his song, not mine
& he’ll sing it all he wants to.
The bird has taken off, and I’m chasing him,
I am running so fast and so far
I’ve finally found him.
He was tired of the buckeye tree
So he perched himself on a Cactus.
I asked him, “What’s so special about a cactus?
Come back to the Buckeye Tree!”
But the bird just started singing his song again.
So I sing with him.
Now I have a new song that I want to show him.
I want him to sing my song with me.
So I started singing it,
But he’s not singing along,
Just his own song.
The seasons have just changed.
His feet are sore from that thorny Cactus
& he’s about to take flight again.
Maybe now he’ll want the buckeye tree
So he’ll be at home with me.
There he goes, he’s flying away!
So I’m running as fast as I can
I’m trying to catch up
But this isn’t the way
This is isn’t the way I remember,
The way to the Buckeye tree.
The bird is perched on a Palm tree.
I am tired, weary, and out of breath.
“A Palm tree! Why a Palm tree?
You are a Cardinal!
What did you fly away for anyway?
Come back to the Buckeye tree!
Be at home with me.”
The bird just began singing his song.
I am done trying to sing along.
It’s his song, not mine.
There was an ancient gully
there were skeletons,
ocotillos strewn across the sand
holy places creatures crawled out from
cactus brittle, drying, lying dead
Mirages leapt - spectrally
ghost dancers, drunkards falling down again
bloodshot eyes searching,
shipwrecks, lost waters, the sea
cool river floating past the trees, you drift
crash and wake alone
cow skulls haunt you
death's sun bleached
Putting many miles in the rear view mirror
Off I left working on making my life all the more clearer.
Dragging left hand on the wall again,
This time it’s all the more complex.
In a matter of minutes I’ll be doing toe tag checks.
Fresh cadaver held me up
Out there eyes came and into a sterile cup.
Given visions to the blind
How I wish they were my favorite aunts kind.
Needle through the glass thirty eight degrees Fahrenheit
Inside you all lay and with no light.
The door was pulled losing its vacuum.
Breaking this seal was better than on a bottle of
Crown Royal Cask number sixteen!
A frozen slumber party inside yes I did see.
All but one with my two hands it took to count all of thee.
Capacity of friends allowed inside, a maximum of only fifteen!
Sudden Blast of cold air turned all my body hair into needles
Like the quills on a porcupine or a cactus in the desert.
Moving the bodies all around,
I’m looking for number one.
I trapped myself in, now look what I done.
Found the man I came looking for,
Now I have to figure out, how to get him to the door.
In a split second I shattered the games all time high score.
Old Cowboys, forts and shootouts
Black for bad and White for good
With a spinning canvas background
And cactus cutouts made of wood
The desert sits behind them
Fifty yards away at most
The heroes don't ride horses
They sip drinks and sit and boast
About their celluloid adventures
singing songs all dressed in white
While behind them in the background
The stunt men do it right
A canvas background rotates
Through valleys, hills and streams
While the hero rides his deck chair
And the director yells and screams
Central casting fills the tribes out
With Italians, and made up stock
While our hero stops an avalanche
Of fake paper covered rocks
Cardboard Cut out Cactus
And heroes smiling in the sun
Most have never seen a cowpoke
Let alone shot off a gun
But, it's magic when it's finished
the dusters up there on the screen
All the fakery and snake oil
Are all hidden, never seen
The white hats beat the black hats
The hero sings and gets the girl
And the background on the spindle
Is still spinning, watch it whirl
A celluloid adventure
Cowboys no where close to what they were
But..watch the next show for a nickel
And don't forget your spurs!!!
Some days, this desert
under spells of sun and moon
think, I brood in fields of agave blue
the angled sun blares sharp to parch
to dry, to crackle leaves to dust
tricky this prickly pear cactus
bitter thorns, laden with
impossible blood sweet fruit
while high and seen out the corner
of my eye, the half moon smiles
beguiled by the sun