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needing space

The filling of days with people and works, in order to overcome the great inquietude created by inaction, has as its fruit, being left unmoderated, the equally pressing demand for an escape from these very people and works. Where the limits lie, or if even such a distinction between stillness and restlessness is to be found at all, is the crush of my soul these latest moments.

Under these stars We dance
until ecstasy shoves
and we fall
searching each for darkness
we sequestrate
i ponder you not once
in this rapture

last week

tell me, when you see me, what is it you are thinking?
some poor girl, brown girl, always looking up girl.
and me, what about me, tell me what it is you see?
some rich boy, white boy, always looking down boy.

i have been here far too long
to bother listening to your songs
about where’s peace and all you see
‘cause you can’t even see that we is we.

30 dead, a friend in blood,
and not even in you
can i find love.

I planted a seed in an ugly place

One day feeling creative
I planted a seed in an ugly place

The seed germinated
And grew itself into a great tree

Birds came to eat its fruit
And carried its seeds every which way

Now there is a grand forest.

I have made this my home
Why don’t you join me?

I won’t be mad if you choose
To cut down my trees to build your cities

But it is so much more fun
To climb their branches

And listen to the wind.

Best pressed down

Best pressed down and there to find
Mother mud open wide
And bathing in sweet shit to see
So very little left of me

2 B A WEED

O, to have the heart of a weed!
That stops for nothing nor has need
Of all the demands of flow’rs thirst –
Flourishing in sweet famine’s dearth.

Then as shadows of this dark night
Swallow faith and leave without sight
These eyes so oft governed by sun
Blind through steely earth would I shunt

And should by evil’s hand my shoot
Be ripped from moor I’d know my root
In holding fast would ne’er death feign
And life would birth this weed’s heart ‘gain.