O love, O pure deep love, be here, be now.
Be all; worlds dissolve into your stainless endless radiance,
Frail living leaves burn with you brighter than cold stars;
Make me your servant, your breath, your core.

sufi mystic - jelaluddin rumi - 13th century

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

SOLSTICE RUMINATIONS (6/21/07)

Solstice – time for renewal, for purification…
put a lid on the past, enclose
it in its steel-clad time capsule and
eject it into the ether, let it
sail on to other dreamworlds –
an educational tool and
cautionary tale for other beings in
other dimensions; but it has no
bearing, no longer any importance or
relevance to the here and now; it’s time
to grow into the newest skin, to
try on another persona, essence…discover
the purpose and the meaning that lie deep
inside of me; a kernel, a seed, a tiny jewel, a
time bomb – programmed
by an ancient from another realm and
planted within me, until
the time is at hand to awaken
the dream, the timer sounding off, signaling
the bud to open and unfold as
I come to life like never before.

I caught a glimmer of this, of
what is to come, one extraordinary
evening, alone in the middle of a magical
desert – a preview of the coming attractions – and,
tho’ I’ve lamented the reversion since to
old worries and anxieties, it shall pass…
all this shall come around again – bolder,
stronger, with fuller force, everlasting…for
I am bound for glory.

I HEREBY FORGO ANY SEMBLANCE TO SANITY

Through the safari of
self-discovery, new
facets of my identity
show themselves -
simultaneously,
at rapid rate, like the birth of cells, or
a kaleidescope of
ever changing shapes and
possibilities, infinite versions of
a single source material
getting played out
over and over again.
New dimensions evolving and
revolving, churning out
new truths that
leave me shaken and
somersaulting through
empty spaces.
My world spins, is
tricked out like
an overturned stocking full
of broken Christmas toys which
tumble out in tiny bits and pieces,
in an almost shocking order,
naked and incomplete.
Who am I really?
How did I get here?
My sense of self suddenly
melts like snow, my
world as I know it revealed
to be impermanent,
a maelstrom which
houses my shape-shifting identity.
Has the reality I’ve been living
really been an illusion?
A dream?
Or is this seeming clarity the illusion, and
the gorgeous dream the reality?
Is my brain too scrambled to
know the difference?
Is this all there is?

JAZZ BABY

Rhinestone dance shoes tap
in the shadows, under
cool, blue light,
while will-o’-wisps of
smoke do a dance in
slow-mo of
Salome and
the seven veils –
winding wisps that
wander upward
and form clouds,
enveloping
our thoughts,
while sexy, subtle tunes are
strummed on the bass and
smooth, swishing sounds of cymbals
soothe
us into a spell.
Feel
your ethereal self
lift up and
float
with the smoke and the notes,
that drift drowsily,
dreamily, and
under the influence,
up into the open air and
out
into the night –
like ghosts,
who are in no particular hurry.
And this sultry,
delicious
happening
happens
in sensuous secrecy while,
under a nighttime blanket of
blue and stars,
the rest of the world
sleeps
and dreams it.

FLY AWAY

How to prevent
people from imprisoning
themselves within
their own minds?
Limited hopes
and imaginations,
mouths opening and
rotating truths
from one moment
to the next...

Birds fly high above
the strange and troubled
world below and
hear only the wind,
view the quiet quilt of
countries and cities
below. What must it be like to
feel such peace, to
be so removed from
the turmoil of
human life?

RETRACING OUR STEPS

Where did the magic go?
We need to believe again, to
find our inner children,
pick up the toys, and
create new worlds out
of our play; stumble
across new inventions and
lost dreams; find
an innovative way of
rewriting the story of
the struggle between
fear and hope; brainstorm
brave new possibilities, cling
to our wildest fantasies, feel
connected to the universal whole, believe
that all things are possible, and
that happiness is
well within our reach…

before it’s too late, and we
disappear
into dust
without a trace, and
no one will be the wiser that
great civilizations had existed, and
that even greater ones were
stillborn.

LAUNCH

Channeling my best Barbarella, I
launch myself and
skyrocket through the
mysteries of time and space to
find my calling;
taking flight out
of sight, towards the bright,
bright stars, the white lights of
the galaxy; accumulating secrets
of the universe, like
picking up pennies
off the sidewalk –
if it’s heads, make a wish-
Oh, I wish,
I wish for a
delicious life,
love,
purpose!
I want the
a la mode
to my existence,
yes!
Lovely,
savory ,
sugary sweet
treat,
decadent excess, with
streams of
cream, dripping and
running rivulets down
your skin
and mine,
dissipating into the
diamond drifts of
stars.
Oozing my desire,
I can hardly
keep it all in.
I could fuck you like
a wild, exotic
creature,
to feel
skin on skin,
that warmth and
desire
on fire,
burning and churning,
turning to
the converging and
merging of
two entities
bawdy, brazen and
free
from the burden of
taking this world
too seriously, of
being dragged down by
outdated desires;
letting the lightness and
brightness of
love lift us like
buttercups towards
the source, with
its force of
attraction.
Get set, go!
Glow, grow and
expand, and
don’t slow down –
no –
not for a second.
Keep on
keeping the faith,
and the dream,
and the drive, and
desire –
keep those fires
alive.
Paradise awaits.
What are we waiting for?

MUSE

Under a slippery,
shimmery sheath of
silk that plays
tricks on the eyes,
she prances and
dances with
cobra-like moves.
What a wonder,
what a mystery this
creature - who
could be a goddess or
a monstrous witch - who
renders us
spellbound.
We watch
paralyzed as
sweat runs
down our faces,
cooling us as
we awaken from
that hot, tight spot
we were just in, and
breathe sweet relief as
the lights glow green.

CIRCUS LIFE

Gossamer angel wings lift
up and away, soaring over a
sea of time and expanse of
bodies and spirits, frantically
trying to make it in
this circus world, full
of endless rings with
kaleidoscopic, spinning scenes
of busy people yearning and
struggling, making love and
nursing broken hearts and
starting it all over again;
these bodies and this world
that are too small, and can hardly
contain our out of this world
music and poetry and desire and ambitions;
the remembrance of old knowledge, of
the places we came from before, of
the essences that we were,
and are;
all of this lifetime is
our tragic and
triumphant struggle to
get back home.

MAYHEM

My thoughts run on for
miles, all this wishing and
yearning for
I don’t know what;
Iguanas watch in smug silence while
they indulge prods and pokes, like
exiled kings under a curse.

The shaman raises her voice and
breaks the silence, casting
her spell over the kingdom of
sleepwalkers and disrupting the
grand and elaborate illusion of living that
acts as a slow mercy killing.
We can rip the matrix and unmask
the little man behind the curtain, yet
we're still walking the precarious tightrope
over our hopes and dreams while the dogs of fear
snap at our feet from the fires below.
This isn’t the circus we ran away to join.
It’s something far more terrifying than
we dared to dream up. What to do
when the ringmaster has gone mad and
no one is running the show any more, as
the animals take over the farm?
Where is our Glinda now?

TRYING TO LASSO THE RAINBOW

Kitty purrs in my ear, divulging
feline secrets as I dream about
concerts by carnies who,
ragged and world weary, strum
their strange instruments. There’s a
dark wisdom in their notes that risks
corrupting the naïve and pure of heart.
Little girls in taffeta dresses spin like tops
in unison, a chorus line of miniatures
imitating the grown ups, as
lonely Lolitas sit dejectedly in the corner like
wilted flowers, too tired for their usual games.
Dandelion dreams, becoming nuisances and
killing the poetry, are plucked after
stripping the muse, who is now
whored out and pushed naked
onto the stage to turn tricks in
a Broadway strip joint. Beauty’s
sacred luster turns to soot while
faded red velvet on the walls calls
attention to our tainted, faded
youthful exuberance. I want to
tempt you to a dance, a slow-mo waltz of
the damned, as we go round and round while
the record keeps skipping and
the cymbals swoosh silently,
deadly - sounds of
unleashed stardust that now falls
rusted to the floor.
This is our no exit.

WOUND UP LIKE BOX SPRINGS AND READY TO POUNCE

Feeling the fires of scorpionic energy cooking up
my anxiety and restlessness and bringing it to a simmer, resenting
the way people can weigh me down – it feels like
a phantom is stepping on my train, pinning me to the floor.
The oppressors try to grab hold of me with
prying, desperate fingers, that dig into me like
cat claws, as they feel me slipping away
from their world, no longer under their influence.
Sugary sweet goodness melts
into watered down gloop and seeps into
the sewage as I realize that I don’t trust them anymore. The sun,
feeling no sympathy, beams down its light and heat and
challenges us to withstand the inferno.
Biting winds deliver the message of doom that
seals the deal. All of our hopes and dreams are lost
in a pharoah’s tomb buried somewhere,
along with the secrets of existence, beneath
the sands of time.

LAST LIGHT OF DAY

In dead of night I lay dreaming about
the apocalypse until
kitty scratches the floor and
pulls me out of it.
The flapping of angel wings crowds my mind,
like shadows. I’m drowning
in a whirlpool, going down
a stink hole like
a zombie in quicksand,
groping for my last breath, hoping
that the tide will turn and that
we will become butterflies.
Rain mists moisten my skin, purifying
me inside and out as
I shout out for liberation of
mind, heart, and soul, trying
to grasp the light, even
as it squeezes through a pinhole,
eluding me.
I hope I didn’t insult the wrong people with
the right message.

THE PASTEL DREAM OF HER EXISTENCE

I sometimes suspect that the reason that I become so stuck in my tracks and unable to find the career or settle down is that I’m tired
of this stupid human game that our spirits have concocted;
slowing down with fatigue- no longer lulled by the lullaby or soothed by the spell-
stopped dead in my tracks because my heart’s not in it and I’m thinking,
“Can’t we move on to something else now?”
When are we going to stop this petty human game that’s already grown old? Let’s go
with another flow and sew seeds for a new existence.
Déjà vu is evidence to me of us living simultaneously in multiple dimensions -
Let’s access one of those or, better yet, yank the whole yarn off of the table of the universe and
put an end to the illusions and shatter this dreamed up existence, which
is confectioned as marzipan and fluff as a puff pastry,
making me just as sick from overconsumption.
Let’s instead return from these elaborate sets to the simple fabric of creation, where
we all intermingle and twinkle like sequins on a ballgown.

UNIVERSAL HOKEY POKEY

The island of lost children
beckons us, like
the call of sirens -
a virtual Candyland of
thoughts and dreams and
ideas and inspiration. Dangerous
smiles -can I fully blame you for
your inability to cope? Emotions, like
mercury, ball up and run like
rain down the gutter pipe, like
some insane pinball game that
doesn’t stop. Groping for
something familiar, for
the only sane and sensible bit
we have to hold onto, I grab my
wand and wave it over us, going back
to the starting point.
The veil between worlds thins and
rips and we push through like
babies from the womb, a
rebirthing of self and spirit.

THEATRICS

I stand in the spotlight in
the lonely auditorium and can only hear
the sounds of softness. Master Blaster
shines the spotlight in my face as
the other players assemble
onto the stage. Footlights below
emit cool blues and unfeeling
frosty white hues. Behind the scenes
are divas before mirrors,
making up their faces and becoming
otherworldly apparitions and
mythological creatures, elusive
as unicorns, eternally shape shifting and
spinning yarns in this never ending
fantasy we call life. The playwright
has abandoned her creation and
the players carry on without direction, like
lost chess pieces, playing
to the faceless, formless audience that
looms in the dark, in the balconies, watching
us in curious silence, and in
frightful anticipation of the climax.
The curtain falls on the twilight of our toils,
smothering us as we breathe in the familiar
old smell of heavy, faded red velvet,
red velvet! Always my undoing and
ungluing in this game
of survival. I hold my pose and
stand frozen on the floor, opening
my mouth to bellow out
a silent scream of horror and anguish, but
there’s no one left to hear.

Live! Life's a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death!

To find yourself, think for yourself - Socrates

Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, magic and power in it. Begin it now. - Goethe

There are no coincidences.

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. - Helen Keller

Great spirits have always encountered opposition from mediocre minds. The mediocre mind is incapable of understanding the man who refuses to bow blindly to conventional prejudices and chooses instead to express his opinions courageously and honestly. - Einstein

To change one's life: Start immediately. Do it flamboyantly. No exceptions (no excuses). - William James

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance. - ee cummings

Ye! the godless are the dull and the dull are the damned - ee cummings

Those who are easily shocked... should be shocked more often. - Mae West

The party's not over, it's just changing locations.

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. - Oscar Wilde

Sweet spring is your
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and vive sweet love - ee cummings

To be ill-adjusted in a deranged world is not a breakdown. - Jeanette Winterson

I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth. - Umberto Eco

When I'm good I'm very good, but when I'm bad I'm better. - Mae West

Everything has its beauty but not everyone sees it - Confucius

The only real elegance is in the mind; if you've got that, the rest really comes from it. - Diana Vreeland

Too much of a good thing... can be wonderful. - Mae West

Each person represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” - Anais Nin

Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. -Dr. Seuss