emchy: (vintage bum)
it's one of those afternoons where the sad just came and slapped me in the face
and not in a totally bad way
but i am thinking of people i have lost
nostalgia
melancholy
and how much trust we put in each others fragile little shells
how delicate hearts and egos and faith can be
how much love it takes
to keep a life alive
to keep it from becoming dulled and hopeless and despondent
what it takes to keep treasures from convincing themselves into trash

we aren't unwanted
none of us are
sometimes
it just has to feel that way
emchy: (Default)
i have lines of text running through my head
every image is the start of a poem
and i can't always get the words down

last night i stopeed talking
this morning i couldn't find
the worker

in a few hours
i'll have unabridged joy on my arm
and letters under my fingers again
emchy: (Default)
stars are scattering around
i am going to keep looking up
and hopes that is gets clearer soon
emchy: (Default)
my mind is running creative tonight like it hasn't in so long. maybe it just took a hang over and exhaustion and getting home with no dinner and barely lunch and overwhelm circuits overladed and orange juicer and blender and talk and pets and whoa whoa whoa for me to force a moment and feel so much and be completely unble to talk or articulate to grab Bone Machine - to walk to the computer and being the staccato ritual tappity tap tap POUND that can turn into beauty that turns blood into words that makes the sacred rise up out of the vast whiteness of the blank page and let the brain go to places that the soul needs to explore. my spirit and my horoscope came together today and smacked me in the face. the ancestors are trying to talk to me. i will not ignore anymore and if it means that i need to listen to tom waits instead of charles mingues to bring it - so be it. I need to yell and sing along and type all night and let stories and words that are verboten and sacred and lustful and passionate and angry and in love and the whole maelstrom of rollercoasters and ribbons and scars that live in these bags of flesh to leave my fingers

the keyboard is my piano and i haven't hit a concerto in way too long.
the chair is creaking on the porch, rocking back and forth and i can smell the wood of it, the life in the wet night dirt as air blows across the grass and through the dark trees that threaten murder and hold secret love. you have to scare people into good behavior. if everyone knew that the trees at night keep everyones secrets, the fabric of respectibility would fall apart from desires fulfilled. we exist on the presumption that some people must suffer and do the 'right' or 'moral' thing. and so i love you. because we don't have to be right or moral. because i walk the forest alone - and i see moonflowers bloom and small bugs crawl deliciously through moss - and i keep the secrets too, because we all have them and i am more interested in being a part of this darkness than with walking in the light.

in a moment

Mar. 2nd, 2005 12:02 pm
emchy: (ocean beach in the winter)
skin is absorbing the rare sunshine of this winter. san francisco has actually received more rain this year than seattle - and i understand the accelleration of my coffee habit. dean martin is warming up the audio frequencies in my office, and the clouds are just dense enough in their fluffiness to make me know that a lunchtime trip to the park might end in a good drenching. i feel the desire to dream and flirt today. lean on arms and grasp hands and ride rollercoasters until we light cigarettes just to feel our feet on the earth again. i feel anchored to the stars when you touch me. i have to keep going there.

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