skysurfer.media

2003Oct11 (Poem+)

2003Oct11 (Poem+)
Saturday

Much madness is divinest sense to a discerning eye – thematic, anorexic solitude is not blindness but distance as if an eagle has a more objective view from high above reality – what changes, what reality so different when I fall back to the earth! Personal truth is inherently subjective, our dreams like our fears are actualized beyond all control as if there was no choice but to be here. And what comfort we take in the illusion of choice! I am stuck with myself, captive on a boat whose sail clings to the wind for a sense of purpose while direction only seems more relevant than movement. What shore will be my destiny? A shady beach or rocky reef? The eagle, as it falls, must alter it’s course to snatch it’s prey. What fish stays motionless? What wind does not shift? Entonces

A sailor’s wings
Agile anchored talons
Catch the moment
Depart from the journey
Regal centered being
Alive and free

October 11, 2003
2003Aug04 (Poem)

2003Aug04 (Poem)
To think that words are not hollow
Shells or fragments of unmanifest thought
Vessels empty of action
To think how full the void.
Resonant sound from a plucked string
Wine breathing the same air that floats a ship
Or makes snow even as it saves a skydiver
The void sets an eagle adrift
And makes waves in the ocean
Words are a womb, Shiva’s conch, and music
Notation for the sake of imagination
Rhythm keeps us moving
Language keeps us being
Dreams keep us alive.

August 4, 2003
2003Jul12 (Poem)

2003Jul12 (Poem)
[no date, may be Jul19]
Comfort day –
Shabbos morning grace
Exceptional beauty
Sophisticated stride
Place of indulgent words and drink
Love in all even as she walks away
A gem’s value may be it’s flaw
But the light comes from it’s facets
Introspection is a hall of mirrors
All ways the labyrinth
Leads back to the center
And the end is always
The beginning again

July 12, 2003
2003May06 (Poem+)

2003May06 (Poem+)
I am in love. Or in light. There is a visible – blaringly visible – delicate glow that permeates all that there is. Lightening strikes a spiral ripple in this lake of emotion; there is the same wellspring at the center of our lives; the same spark or glimmer – am I insane? Are my dreams really coming true? – And yet I know her, she’s changeable and likely to turn against herself. She cares about me, more than anyone has before, but what will happen? There are so many variables (and so many people). I don’t worry about others coming between us – no one knows us, or understands us, enough. I worry about her judgment, though she has demonstrated more ability than I have to show. I wonder how much of a chance we are taking on each other, or if this is as fateful as it seems. Or is it fateful? At times (such as today) I find myself in the midst of the wildest coincidence, strange even for synchronistic things.
[next page]
Such a perfect day on which I dine.
A perfect woman to stimulate my palate
Like a painter I sense the mood of the hue
Even as you remind me
Of that ever important substance called light
You drive by, a flash of your presence
Enough I hope to capture this thought
Even after it has begun.
Native son shadows the violinist
And my hunger strengthens
Who cares where my next meal comes from!!!
This one is on it’s way!

There is a certain façade that is expected of others, big or small we prepare for it; and they, us. You see, as we look at each other we put a certain distance between ourselves. That, in turn, makes us feel separated – like we’re in a glass jar because there’s this invisible wall between us and every-body-else… and we want more, so, we look for that someone who we can connect to and develop our ability to connect to all and then one day… one day, I meet this woman who I felt no wall with our touch – we touched and it was free.
[next page]
What will they all think of me! We all know the truth is no one is likely to understand. She is strange (everyone knows that) but I might just scare the hell out of them. People are frightened by things that move quickly like lightening – although, the chance of being hit by lightening in far less than that of contracting a terminal illness. – Nevertheless, poelpe spook more easily than sheep (and herd as well) and like my friend says “though we walk on the backs of the ewes as dogs, we must never forget we are part of the flock”. Heaven bring me as much. I am now haling.
[next page, evening?]
Is my heart so malleable, tenderized and softened, that it now forms to every movement her spirit makes? And where did she come from? I didn’t think that people like her could be in this world. She is the most magnificent soul a person could hope to shere with her presence. Her eyes are light. I feel her with the core of my being. And I need to touch her. I am still so afraid of losing, yet this is the greatest unknown connection to someone I’ve made ever. I’ve met
[cut off]

May 6, 2003
2003May01 (Poem)

2003May01 (Poem)

From the book of unforgotten sorrows
I lament my departure
From the light-filled being
I once found
With you.

It no longer matters
If the star I see
Is from crawling through a tunnel
Or falling down a hole

That your radiance,
Even when just a glimmer
Incites me to live
Inspires me to love

I’ll forever strive
To be complete

And dream of a time
When I felt whole

This chapter is a story of it’s own
The end will be resounding
And irreversible
What risk is there to reading on?
But that the enjoyment will conclude
And leave me where I’m at
Alone and missing you

[next page]

Love is as beguiling as the sunrise in your eyes

Let me feel you
Come bring your breath
Closer to my ear
And whisper
So I can hear your heartbeat
From below
Let your energy flow
Around / the line / between us
I’m reflexive
To your touch

Let me see you

May 1, 2003
2003Apr30 (Poem)

2003Apr30

I see
All thousand points of light
And there are shadows
That record the space between waves
In an ever expanding funnel
Like a spiral cyclone
Situated rests
Make a staircase
And there is a downward draft
A falling luminescence
Gently pressing
On the crown
And the ground
The eye itself
Becomes peaceful
And I hear
And I feel

I see
From here to infinity
Recording shards of truth
Broken ripples in the flow of things
An ever changing experience
Twisted around memory

April 30, 2003
2003Apr23 (Poem)

2003Apr23 (Poem)

Stairs and steps
Extend one’s life
Even as sun and water
Cure all things
Calligraphy and photography
Both write for the eyes
And poetry is beauty
Loving is living

A spiritual bridge
Built one stone at a time
Spans our lives
As we step toward another day
Climbing as if we could take flight
And knowing these stairs, this effort
Is as perfect coming up
As the indulgence of the past
And the present back on solid ground

Each time the day comes
Our eyes drink light
And quench our need
For beauty
And we manifest ourselves
As visible sources
Of spirit
I see when I look at you
The sunrise ever present in your eyes
And love as I try one word at a time

April 23, 2003
2003Apr14 (Poem+)

2003Apr14 (Poem+)

Where have my words gone as if I am afraid to mar this page, because it is the first, though days pass by like page after page and no one can remember the beginning. It is as if the human condition is a simple state of being ‘caught between’. We start reading the story of our lives at chapter 13 and spend the rest of the time trying to figure out what’s going on while sticking to the story. Did we skip ahead or hold ourselves back when we started in the middle? There have been no viable solutions for mankind.

Pride is a pestilence,
Multi-faceted shards of stars
From a shattered wine glass
Sinking feeling of loss

Like a fisherman who never had
And never caught

There is sadness in the dream
Even while there’s lobster
Boilin’ in the pot.

And I think aloud and louder
Is there any other answer
To the question why
Then just because?

And they fear me
They fear me for saying
That weapons are tools of hatred –
Let’s not love them
That children never chose to be here –
Let’s not blame them
That life itself does not need to
Evolve around death.

Destroy!!! The charioteer bellows and we needn’t think he has pride but arrogance and gall and he’s full of it.

“I am so powerful – look at my horses”
Is that nonsensical to anyone else?
Horses. Horses.
I don’t know about you but
I am not my horses.

I like to think of living
As being akin to sailing on
An ever expansive ocean
And territorial destruction is
Never a part of the plot of my course.

Freedom for me does not mean slavery for you –

And while there’s stew on the stove
– sustenance in hand –

Pride is the cry for more
Even as we reach for our bottles to pour
Health from a glass lip
Even as we sip
We say this is just a door
To ourselves.

When will we alone be enough?

Pearls in succession lace her neck
Diamonds, rubies, and maybe one
Perfect sapphire adorn her perfect soul.
And her heart sees them, but does it
Recognize her self? Her selflessness
Is a state of being, intangible
But represented by things.
Does her mind acknowledge me
As another sovereign being?
Does she love me?
Is she the only one?

April 14, 2003
2002Dec01

2002Dec~~ (Poem)
[all entries undated, end of book starting 2002Mar19]

Do you defend me
When I am not there
And do you guard me
When you are not also asleep
Am I watched and considered in love
Or do you not value me most,
Though second to yourself
My aching heart needs to know so I can rest.

Will you hold me
As I am sick –
And heal me
So that I may hold you, when I am strong
Will you let me
Stay lost in your eyes
And touch and move with me
Will you be there when I cry

Even to wait a thousand years seems to be a day when I am with you at last my life is new (though I am tired)

So much uncertainty in life at this time …Suzette, Robert, even people I don’t know have such consequences in my life. I am not at all worried about having a place to stay… I just wonder where it is. And will I be with Suzette? All else pales in comparison.

Nodes branched spirals
Like a moire of intersected curves —
Some sharp, some gentle

[note to myself in ball-point]

In Search of a Place Where There Is No Death
A novel
A world of the afflicted
Cold blooded killing
Psychopathic behaviour
Assassination
Main Character(s) trying to “get out”
Impending doom?
(literal, symbolic, psychosomatic)
Moral assassins

Research serial killers and money gurus

December 1, 2002
2002Nov17

2002Nov17
[probable date]

Sunday coffee before Vacaville
Disorderly conduct for flippin’ the bird to a cop… what nonsense! I think his point was quite clear.

Morning news, and the normal heartsick blues, racks my mind and taunts my eyes with fog and distant music. Drums fall away replaced by the usual chatter. Not white noise but a chaotic rhythm still… still… stillness. I feel untouchable in the most terrible way. My words fall into black holes as if no one wants to listen. I am, again today, a world broker – broken of a certain will to satisfy desire at any cost, accepting my fate as isolated as it may be. “I am not a passenger. I am the ride.” Says the song and I think of myself as a chauffer, lost without a map, looking for a sign.
And so long past the point of no return, I take my foot from the cliff behind me and place my trust in whatever momentum I can contain as I enter into the long moment before me, suspended above the chasm of the abyss, and pray that my faith will be enough to land me safely on the other side. And in my longing I hope to find you waiting, still, for me. Forgive me, God, for my undying wish to be in the arms of my beloved. I want no other.

[next page, probably a different day]
I run into Leticia with a sharp resound… I went reeling like a dreidle until I caught Suzette and she, me arm in arm. We spin off each other, act as catalysts and inspire each other. My thoughts dribble today as I process and ponder this gaping hole that Suzette fills so well. Or does she? It’s maybe an illusion that comes of my will to heal that she readily stimulates. I wonder what my writing looks like at a distance as I feel the world’s ability to watch me. Thank God I’m not on the internet!
——Freud: The mark of a healthy human being is the ability to work and the capacity to love.
Which is it that I have problems with? My capacity to love is extraordinary. It’s my ability to work that is lacking I feel, or is it? What am I not capable of doing? My body works, though my energy levels could be stabilized by diet… and I need to quit smoking and drinking (or at least cut back). My problem is emotional. My capacity for intimacy frightens even me. I was awaken when I was too young – tricked into it, really. And yet it’s the common goal for humanity to reach a higher level of awareness. I’ve had (and do have) mixed feelings about the shock of reality that I was exposed to, but the past is the past and the fact is I survived. Now for the deep empathy left behind I suffer the awareness of relation to the death of the world and must use this empathetic gift to lessen (cushion) ‘the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to’ – to serve – and to feel a purpose (¡Voluntad!)

Oh Leticia,
This letter is the first I’ve written with no intention of sending or showing. I scared you with my ability to go so deep… and I had not harnessed my void in service, confused my need with love. Now I’ve found success and a sense of purpose, and I understand. All the old prophecies echo through my mind and I know that I am living my fate. I am happy, though I never thought I could be without you.

November 17, 2002
2002Nov15

2002Nov15
She is consumed by words
Perfection reflected through a proximity
Of time and space – past is present
Is dream time… must heal from Leticia,
Or sort out my feelings and express them.

[first page of a different journal beginning 2002Jan]

She is consumed by words. My words I hope are unaffecting. I want to preserve her, though I devour her with my eyes and ears. I do not want to be in control, but I say I do. I just want to sense her, feel and hold.

November 15, 2002
2002Nov12

2002Nov12

[red ink]
Mid November began for me today as I awoke to the most stunning view from the Berkeley Marina. All three bridges and the pier:
Pearls of light
Hung in stasis
As if from invisible rafters
Perhaps we are dolls in this giant’s animated world, left to our own human device, grouped together in cement toy boxes, and allowed to revel in our play.
Or maybe the giant doesn’t think of us at all… and who cares! Isn’t this world just larger than life itself? Why not run free? Certainly we will not exhaust the possibilities for love and learning! And life will pass quickly if we spend our time just looking back. We should save that for when our seams are tiring and we can no longer climb mountains and our old doll wisdom will be that life should be lived so stories can be told – and what stories we will have!… already enough for a book if books are just stories worth keeping. Let’s write many books and leave our life experience behind for others to have, or let’s leave art, or light because like stars or pearls one more added only increases the beauty of the whole. And when our stuffing breaks down and we become shreds of cloth we know we will have become part of the fabric of the universe.

What greater gift could God have chosen for me than that of finding you in my life. I thought I knew what I wanted (so many times) but now I see I could never have imagined such perfect harmony. You asked me not to fall in love with you so now I am praying that your apprehension be lifted and that God may have sent me to you for life. I am in love with you. How could I not be? You are my perfect spirit, my godsend, my queen. I pray that you will keep me, that you will let me love you, and together we will always live in joy and true happiness. I pray that our time together will be strengthening and that we may share a faith that can see us through all trials. Oh Suzette, I pray that you will love me too.

This morning, for the first time in years, I felt like I was no longer lost. I knew exactly where I was and where I wanted to go. This feeling of being no longer out of pace, I hope, is not transient. I hope I can maintain this centeredness and not be derailed by other people. I hope everything works out for Hikah (I fear I broke her heart) and with Suzette I hope we can solidify the comfort we have found together.

[black ink]
All these recent realizations about Leticia’s significance in my life deserve so much writing that my mind and my pen keep shuddering to a halt. I could not say enough but that, to my surprise, I now think her daughter Alina was more important. I wanted to help Leticia so badly (and confused that with love) because Alina was the first child I ever connected to/with – had empathy for… an ability to relate with a child for the first time ever at 29 years old. So easily that empathy carried over to a shared understanding with Leticia, a feeling that I needed in my isolation at that time. And how many would-be fathers had she at that time! A slew of people flocking to fill the need she had for someone to understand her pain. Thank God I was there for her in my darkest hour – for Alina’s sake. But I was there that night looking for love to fill my void. And in her infinite wisdom as mother and warrior she fled from those who would make her rather than take her into her own personal hell to confront her truest desires; and all the while I felt responsible though her daughter was in good care. I wish her all the best with Krishna and somehow I know she will find all that she wants in life. Ironically, the whole turn of events rendered me helpless to do anything but take care of myself and give up on love. And in so doing I stepped through the front door of my life into paradise as did Leticia. These, my final words in this chapter, are not an ending – as I cross over the threshold and let go of my need for another I find true love waiting for me, predestined to be. And so this is a beginning as I offer my heart to Suzette.
[note in margin – Suzette calls at the most synchronistic time.]
Thank you God for guiding me through the labrynth of my mind and giving me the opportunity to love the most wonderful woman. I pray now that she will love – does love – me, too. Yet I wholly trust that whatever is meant to be will be and I revel in the anticipation of experiences to come. Thank you.

November 12, 2002
2002Nov10

2002Nov10

The sound of a terrible and low thunder illuminates the fault lines and the chips in these massive columns. The sky they support threatens to crumble as the walls press in and I am left in the middle of the room alone. What good would it do to kneel? Or crouch down, hide my head, and fall into a fetal position?
My fear is like a heat rapidly gaining speed. I feel a burning tremor, a rush of ice hot white passion and I know I can fly! The sky is not falling – I am reaching up to touch it and the shards of light that leak through the holes of my mind are stars. Let the pillars fall and the earth quake and I will ride the wind and be everywhere touching everything until lightening strikes me dead and calls me home and makes me into starlight resting on the moon. I will be transformed into calmness like the quiet after a storm and these anxieties will become the foundation of my home.

November 10, 2002
2002Sep24

2002Sep24

My whole purpose for being an artist is being shaken. This is my block. Not immovable but rather a glare that struck the central emotus system, light rendered into thing rather than thing illuminated. Preoccupation. Indulgent.

September 24, 2002
2002Aug30

2002Aug30

I go blind. I go psychically blind. My sight was robbed and I struggle to get it back. That’s why I look for the chinks of silver and the glints of light. I’m searching for a vision, learning my truth. I’m looking for a reflection of myself. I do not want to take anything from you, I just want to see you.
¡Eleguá!
¡Eleguá!
I saw you without your cane yesterday! Eternal child. Bless the mother for the eternal mercy of the spirit in this journey through the world and the distant protectors for their bows.

[Gayatri mantra]

[next page]

Oh, Leticia!
Is this goodbye? Sad Spanish songs play on the stereo. A saxophone cries of unrequited love. The irony to this is that the music is Hikah’s. Was this all an illusion, now a secret fantasy exposed? Was this feeling just wishful thinking? I saw a reflection of light in you and sank all my desire for love into the vision. Now I see that a love forever is spiritual, that love is light ever illuminating and intangible. How rare is it that pure spirit manifests! I didn’t want to let go. But like water, light slips through one’s fingers falling deeper into shadows. Una vida intensa. Musica de los sombras. You were like a sound carried on the wind, like watching a memory in the making. And there was a certain sense of perfection as every moment I was listening to a song I knew would end. I will always miss you.

August 30, 2002