Aching shoulders

There is no more waiting
I need a better chair
I need renewal or a book titled Renewal
My puppy is really fourteen
My chalks are all over this desk
I bought love stamps today
I mailed out postcards
I did not go to work
I drew a beluga whale last night
Or it could have been a sea cow
I just drank a chocolate coffee
I slept until two o'clock
I took pictures of windy beaches
I drove around in my car
I ate french fries
I saw a friend's doppleganger
I do not want to go to work tomorrow
I need to finish things up
I need to drink this water
My butt hurts from sitting so much
I need not visit facebook anymore
I should listen to more music
Is there a way to escape feeling responsible?

Goodbye

Pre-Flood

Me

Oh precipice, I love you

Alright, precipice...

is that what we wait for? Do we [think] we need some life or death dead end in order to give ourselves permission to make the choice that would make us happy?

So precipice...you are not an actual cliff that forces people to jump into a free fall of exhilaration. Standing on the edge does imply that there is certain doom waiting for you. Sure, jump off and feel amazement, you'll be falling so fast that your facial muscles can't even close around your mouth. You are literally forced to smile but as payment for your short time in bliss you will perish at the bottom.

                                                                                                                       Really.

                                                                                                                                  Jump.

                                                                                                                                            It's that good.

As the maverick that I am [yes, you can laugh] I can tell you that the above scene is both real and although sarcastic in the way of challenging your perceptions of the phrases, an actual truth.

The difference is this: the precipice, the edge of the cliff, is every single moment. How awake we are in each moment determines how close to the edge we are. In awareness the self becomes secondary. When we are in connection with 'the force' [whatever] we die. We, our lesser selves, the things we judge ourselves for, our conditioning, our 'shoulds.'

At this moment, I am hunched over at a marble table writing inside a coffeehouse in downtown Milford. Outside the window in front of me are tired drooping wax-leaved begonias sharing a pot with a purple foliage plant whose name I cannot remember. I am now stuck in my head- not connected- watching traffic zoom by. The drivers are turning their heads to follow the road as they turn the corner. I will soon leave to recover my phone who was forgotten which is why I am here. I am at the bottom of the fake cliff.

My plan today was to jump off the edge of the train platform, ha- just kidding. No, I was going to watch the gap and mindfully step onto the train for Grand Central Station but forgot my cell phone at home. I had no time to retrieve it and decided to give in to the moment and cancel my trip.

Life is thrilling all on its own if you look at every moment as a beginning. Each new thought creates your future, each new contact with a person is a chance to one-up yourself. Let go of the theory of competition; you are a unique set of DNA both biologically and spiritually. No one other than you can have your experience so make it a pleasurable and fulfilling one. If you fall off and land at the bottom, there is always the afterlife.

Postcard

Book Release Party!

Come and celebrate the release of No Fresh Cut Flowers, An Afterlife Anthology with Sephyrus Press!

The book, edited by Rachel Andrews, contains poems from over 25 poets and is deliciously rich with thought provoking views of the afterlife, color photographs and comes with a full length soundtrack.

Meet some of the poets, enjoy a latte or some wine and eat some scrumptious food with us at this exciting event.

Can't wait to see you there!

The event is being held at Cafe Atlantique, 33 River Street, Milford, CT, on October 23th at 7pm.  For more information please email Rachel -at- Sephyrus.com.  

Oh well

burgeoning creeper vine

twisting its way up

and out to catch the sun

scratching its back

against my rib cage,

belly up it slides.

night fall comes
too quickly.

I And

I can type.
I can drink.
This water.
And this beer.
And pet this
Frog who sits
In front of
A mirror.

My desk friend

This is what you can find...

...if you live with your eyes and ears open.  Jim Oblon with drummer Steve and bassists Ian and Chris play free live music every Monday night at The Owl Shop in New Haven.  I could get all valley girl on you and say that they are seriously rad but you can tell all on your own by the video.  I am blessed to have such amazing music available to me and the great part is so are you!  Eeegads!!!

Yep

Ouch. It might be dangerous to draw your own brain.

Getting back to the brain theme...I have deduced that it might be dangerous to draw your own brain.  It sort of hurts.  And I found that it is never ending until you shut off the connection.  The first drawing, the one with the blob shapes is the basic way my brain is laid out, quite different from the other two (one, two)  I've done.  Those two people are computer programmers, very analytical, purposeful and logical.  I'm pretty much the opposite of that.  No rulers needed here...haha.  The second drawing, the color field, should be behind the blob picture but I had to do them separately.  When I went to scan the color drawing, the background, I had the urge to draw another one, then another one.  So it goes, the connection I'd made to my brain was still active and therefore changing, wanting to be drawn.  Very interesting! 

A whir

Minute twinklings,
zombies unharmful.

Hairs on a pillowcase
wash in the machine;

whirring playfully
as in a dance

from a night before
when Nantes played.

Trumpeting choral
reefs speak together

in harmony of hair
product unknown.

Sanded, glistening
chips from fossilled rock.

An un-lonely evening
still spatters my face with grin.

Owl Shop Lounge

What is so seedy
about a cigar bar
in New Haven?

The smoothly dimpled
oak leather chairs?
Or is it the amber
shadow boxes of
empty beer bottles...

smoke stack breathin'
bluesy heart chokin'
music,
        plus - business men

finally able to relax

to inhale the life
they agree with.

We all feel comfort
surrounded by vices,
our butts slowly sinking
into forty year old stuffing

and our feet firmly planted
on scuffed up pine.

Twinkles on a Birch