Poem 03.14.09 #1

The eroticism of language, with its mouth filled, tongue touching the
back of teeth, is full of potential.
When Jacques was on a date with his lover, did he feel like ripping
his heart out?
The names one gives credence to are the names that are permanent.
On the inner right arm, in a place where I couldn't write your name,
I have your name.
The tattoos that I chose for myself were the first name of philosophers:
Barthes, Derrida, Foucault, Marx or Benjamin, and the sort.
I had the black ink readied, the needle clean and on my skin.
The words would pour out, little silver mercurial drops, biting the
inside cheek, metallic and cold.
The numb fingertips, tracing the shapes of letters spelling your real
name.
Your given name.
The one you gave yourself.
If I could speak your name, I would.

Fwd: Blogger DMCA takedown notification

They took down my Thomas Dolby post.

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Something I heard the other day

Don't let yourself be define by your setbacks

I really need to take this quote to heart. I have had a couple of recent events happen in my life that have gotten me to be more contemplative, to say the least. I keep asking myself the same questions, over and over: What exactly did I do wrong in this situation? What can I learn from this experience? How can I keep myself from repeating this sort of thing? I am working through these questions, and even though I don't seem to be finding the answers, it reminds me of my favorite quote by Rainer Maria Rilke:

I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

HRC Speech by Julian Bond

Vacationesque Edition

My brother and three nephews have come to Los Angeles to visit. Yesterday, we drove up to Big Bear for skiing; which, I must be honest, I have only skied once in my life. Today makes the second time ever. And for some strange reason, I let them talk me into going up to the top of the run and coming down a Blue trail. That was not the best idea. It may have been the worst idea they could have come up with. I am proud of myself that I actually attempted to come down the hill (mountain!) via ski. I criss-crossed back and forth for half way dow, but I fell quite a bit, as well. In the end, I twisted my ankle a little and decided to not risk it anymore. A snow patrol came by and I hitched a ride down the rest of the way. I am not embarrassed or ashamed. It was the smartest thing I could do. And the ride down the mountain at 20 MPH was very exciting!

Poem 03.08.09 #1

Syriana

2009

It's not that trust is contingent upon honesty

For I trust liars every day.

It's not that my love for you is based on anything.

When I walk away from the explosion 

That is our life, I at least want to be carrying something.

I don't want my history to perish with the lies.

I want my briefcase to be filled with evidence

Of the politics of our love.

Provided there is a solution to the pain

Or a solution to the doubt

Or, at least, a solution to my desire.

It's not that honesty is contingent on love.

It's not that I am lying to you.

 

Poem 03.07.09 #1

To the Right of the Jetty

2009

There is a shifty and tingly sand made step

That I try to walk on as the waves come in.

My toes feel the rush of the ground moving away.

There is no fear and no worry, but more of a security

In the dance of ideas in my head,

Like when I was listening to Roxy Music in the summer

In the night on the beach alone.

But, when the water moved out again and I took that next step,

The solid packed sand felt sure, and to me the thought of you was clear.

I remember the firmness of that compressed substance,

And how hard I thought of it when I was nearing the pier.

Hoping that the rocks wouldn't cut the sole of my foot

On my way up the path to where I parked as I prepare to leave.