Monday, January 30, 2012

sunset and sunrise

Monday, January 23, 2012


only catching a glimpse of this overwhelming beauty when you're drunk enough to dim the staggering brightness of your pain. nothing good gets away. so they say. and i think about being enclosed in some contained environment with her, be it a parked car, rain slamming down on windshield and hood, or a bedroom with our bodies tangled/knotted, loose hair glued to skin by sweat. even surrounded by this planet, committed in a ticking-time-clock of certainty and conclusion. and i think about these things, only so that i can find a little secluded corner of relief in my mind. but it's not much and it's quick.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012


physical or invisible. storms of electricity. eyes blurring back and forth. vision muted grey with black lines. wavy like the scream. ghosts impassioned from the shadows of our faces. breathing in her mouth. swallowing her breath. lips in delicate brush strokes. exhale. inhale. exchanging breath like two junkies.

we talked about a bunch. what worries us. i said she's brave. she said she's just all over the place. i said she's brave but it's ok to be afraid. its good. asked me if I was afraid. i told her no. i worried. she said she just had to be more grateful. that's why i yelled thank you at the mountain. an hour after she'd put her hand on my face I told her "gratitude. thank you." for what? thank you. she said thank you.

"i like your energy, its good." i mumbled.
she cooed.
"i like yours."

my hands gripped and caressed the mountains and valleys of her spine, waist, scalp, dug deep and warm gentle and strong.

neighbor snoring.

the greek yafo pepper story whispered in her ear. laugh. the rush of hungering. caring enough to stay away but hungry.

wanting her to leave then come back.

she left my motel twin bed in jerusalem at 4:30 am.

i waited for awhile. she didn't return that night. the music played and she didn't return. then, with my heart, a feeling of my heart coming and going, showering heart. jeff texted me while I wrote this. celebrate it all.

Monday, January 16, 2012


late afternoon wanes. greek drunk energy. we're old men playing backgammon. slouched over the board, slamming marble on cork wood, lose, win, lose more. spill into houses warm with dinner. one, two, cognac, stumble bathroom. in the mirror, dull reflection, wrinkles cut deeper on these mysterious faces. parents gone, feeling alone, nubbed cigarette, smoke dancing from ashtray. there's no one sometimes. the day swallows us in fragments til we surrender. wash face, brush brittle teeth, sleep, dream everything, past failures, things we couldn't see, dark, touch bottom, don't rest, never settle, find a way up, finally wake up, wake up by grace of god wake up, eyes will open again, optimistic with sun.

i didn't fall in love with the mediterranean sea.

Monday, January 2, 2012

in between the moon and you