Image by Chris Saunders
Dreamt a lioness, with her mate.
Her mate so huge, exquisite,
calmly stalking near us,
suddenly on hind legs, assuring us
"I'm old, do not be afraid of me…"
So with his withered frame he limped
out of the dream
but I remembered him all day upon my waking.
pursued my faith, my determination.
Had I seen a symbol of strength?
Or an imprint of hesitation, like something
which has passed. Already passed.
Unsure, and tired from the day,
I settle into nighttime moon-watching,
searching the dimensions of my confusion,
or my gratitude,
unwilling to fall to weakness,
Within my self, a thousandfold emotive lions. Around my being, a million manifold eclipses, smiles and heartbeats. Light. Dangerously bright. Shadows, delirious and delicious. Strange romantic cravings. Fantastical stories and dreams. Something is in the wind, in the breeze. A silent wisdom speaks, hums slowly louder, unfolds us. Peacefulness is so near, at times reached. Ever there. Ever here.
Somethings pulls tenderly. A familiar symmetry. Bubble-thought and weightless heart, suddenly I'm everything.
What does it take, creating me? Do it, friend. I'm eager to be born.
Whispering linens, spores of sweat and tendrils of your hair, streaming all about you in your sleep.
I watch the night you keep. A shadow self, my lonesome wanderer - my effortless loving of you,
how I'd hold you if I could.
Destiny and legacy, words I use not easily. I think of you, something neutral and unassuming in your being.
There's a tall wall, and a lock and a seal, and I still think of you, past the clouds, past the line
dividing your heart from mine, it feels still near, I'm reckless, useless, clumsy,
with you far.
Won't the daylight bring you again?
A mystery, folded into harmony, holding my hand, it's transparent at a glance.
Leaves, their skeletal lines, the air on the branches of the trees, all the ease
with which I remember you. Still see your essence where you sat,
not two hours ago. Not yet removed from my iris blot, from my map and chart
of your sweet face, your laugh and your grace.
Maybe right now it's just not accompanying me,
the sometimes sweet inner voice of enjoyment,
comfort and equanimity.
I can hang without.
For a bit.
Hoping to reconsider, over and over again,
how we've lost our way before, how we bend and sway.
Forthright, always within and surrounding.
On "daylight savings" day, it was nika-savings - I was sideswiped. As a gift, I survived. Many today died.* But I survived.
Was hit. Car door dented. Nerves shot.
Shock, and instant lessons.
Later that evening, breathing the air, reading poems, walking a dog, tea with a friend, correspondences, dreams and ideas, smells and sensations. Bliss it is, to be alive.
Love for a man. Faith. Torment. Sweet song. Idle longing. Change of perspective. Change of angle.
sideswiped | change | so very deeply grateful | to be alive
*by "many today died" I meant it as generally, in the world, that is. not just by car accident or impact or sideswipe. But I was sideswiped. Vulnerable and stupid outside the car door on a narrow street. Reaching for a bag from the back seat. I could've been crushed. But I'm still here. So grateful.
Recharged. Emotionally a bit bruised but getting over it.
The day had been a Runyon Canyon yoga morning followed by a short hike and ocean at Topanga Beach and talking with and writing to dear friends.
So very deeply grateful to be alive.
The vulnerability of this human flesh is intoxicating.
I'm dizzy just thinking of the split second.
The loudness and scratching.
A gift. A lesson.
I'm still here.
a stoic love
shared and unshared
relinquished unto the heavens, gods, sepulchers of secret stories and fine spirits,
meant to absolve all of doubt and
even sin, endless happiness and mirth,
laughter and music,
a stoic love,
a distance conquered,
a sky so blue and bluer every day, like oceanic lashes, mists, cheekbones of mountain frost,
diligently securing every moment of life,
grateful and a bit askew,
a bit akimbo,
a bit restless...
but so pointed, so dedicated, to love. to love and honor.
obeying only what the higher self enshrouds.
enlisting the services of only the highest good.
the brain's soulful return to its own heart,
no separation in physical form. only beauty and resonance.
Oh underwater shepherd-queen, come bestow some grace on me.
Sweltering, I'm afloat yet bolted
to the sand, ever changing
and still I swim the same, and up around and all about you, I long remain.
A bemused fan, forever devoted to your tug and tide,
to your bluest deepest dream of dreams,
my underwater riding-hood, my underwater queen.
"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night."
-Rainer Maria Rilke
December... 12.20 Almost solstice, and now to write the deep gratitude of having a mother like I do. A father like I do. I am unique because of them, they have given me infinite riches because they taught me how to be creative, and how to appreciate beauty.
12.23 Solstice came and went, days will get longer now. A cut on my right thumb makes it difficult to type. Sunshine pours in. I am on borrowed time in a borrowed space. Much reflection and turmoil swim around my thought bank, I long to go home, be with family, make art, keep it simple. My heart is not as big as I thought, or, it is, of course it is, but it is still bruised and recovering from the previous love(s) that I shattered... Now this new love offers itself so graciously, but again at such a price, I cannot stand the stress any longer. I am healthier living at home, at peace.
the child within, the distance set, a fractal light, a beaming life
from start to end, no frames, no shade.
hustling birth, to then be judgement-worth, spending, saving, making out of nothing,
simplicity's a forgotten virtue?
It's strange, I get this cold, dark shadow of a doubt upon my soul.
It only lasts a moment, or a little more, But always with the resolution nearing,
Just close enough to mine some meaning,and be gone.
"Our world is in crisis because of the absence of consciousness. And so to whatever degree any one of us, can bring back a small piece of the picture and contribute it to the building of the new paradigm, then we participate in the redemption of the human spirit, and that after all is what it's really all about."
Last.fm Music Profile
Alex Chemer Photography (my father)
Vera Rey Fine Art