Today in the city

Today, in the city,
I read prize-winning poems.

None nearly as nice as your pretty pomes.

but now,
my dearest,
from this train,
on this train trip,

I am reading words
that draw me pictures of our loving,
that drip with our liquids,
and run with our juices.

Words that make me think of you,
each one:
tentacled beasts, and running red wine,
and fragrant nectar breathed into loving nostrils
by broad-cased lungs.

These words that I will carry back to you,
and hope that you will be entertained,
as I am moved.

With love.

even though you 'fixed it' with one hanger

in spite of whatever MacGyver-esque techniques you used to reconstruct the fallen exhaust system on your cute red truck,

i am sitting here, up above the trees,
and i can hear that you'll soon be walking through
the door.

nice truck.
still loud, like us.

taking stock

just to summarize:

pushing the end of almost thirty
still full of love and all that shimmering
quiver

just like years ago. only better.

serious biznach

so. it's been brought to my attention that i may have sounded a bit too serious in that last post.

be it resolved: never sound too serious.

now, everyone, take off your pants!


(unless you're always gettin' 'em off, Tudor, in which case, maybe leave them on for a change)

in conversation

in conversation, the other day w/ my friend, at The Favorite Cafe...

we were talking around and around. and he reminded me of this thing: this fear of inhabiting an Internal Universe in which many nice ideas are collected, and pondered, and chewed upon, but from which no action is initiated.

you know it: "will i end-up doing nothing will all of this grooming/prep/privilege...?"
a pinch of guilt: "all of those Big Ideas brought me here? to this path to safe comfort?"
mingled with: "will i forever be alone in all of this?"

and so, be it resolved:
planning/thinking/preparing MUST have the intention of action as its kernel. inaction is a valid consequence, but it must be calculated - a choice, rather than an accident of inertia.

be it resolved.

fortune

best fortune ever, and it's been sitting in it's cookie on my kitchen shelf, next to the porcelain spoons, for months...

The only way to catch tiger cubs is to go into the tiger's den.

missing madness

I (almost) miss the madness of the fall.

Most winters these past few years have found me struggling, searching for things beginning with the letter 's':
support
sanity
serenity.

This time I have just wild energy and more happy feelings than I know what to do about.

It is good. A treat, even. But so was spring and its rebirth as I climbed out into lightness and dancing.