Friday, October 29, 2010
There was the walk home. I know it so well I don't even have to look up. Leaves now, that wonderful crunch. The sunny side of the street. Edith Piaf. A glass of wine, stack of books. The stoop.
I remember that song about the music on Clinton St. all through the evening. And lost amongst the subway crowd I try to catch your eye. And then that sunny cottage kitchen where I taught myself how to cook, barefoot and so totally free. I remember bong rips and stacks of Lonestar cans. Smoking cigarettes on the steps, spying on that cute single dad with the toddler. Space heaters. The giant claw-foot bathtub. Stealing the neighbor's lavender. Some of these things are connected. Some songs carry me through life, like a raft. Or a life jacket.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Someone lives in a cave
eating his toes,
I know that much.
Someone little lives under a bush
pressing an empty Coca-Cola can against
his starving bloated stomach,
I know that much.
A monkey had his hands cut off
for a medical experiment
and his claws wept.
I know that much.
I know that it is all
a matter of hands.
Out of the mournful sweetness of touching
Out of the many houses come the hands
before the abandonment of the city,
out of the bars and shops,
a thin file of ants.
I've been abandoned out here
under the dry stars
with no shoes, no belt
and I've called Rescue Inc. --
that old-fashioned hotline --
Left to my own lips, touch them,
my own dumb eyes, touch them,
the progression of my parts, touch them,
my own nostrils, shoulders, breasts,
navel, stomach, mound, kneebone, ankle,
It makes me laugh
to see a woman in this condition.
It makes me laugh for America and New York City
when your hands are cut off
and no one answers the phone.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Tonight I remember the sound of a newborn baby's cry.
I temporarily forgot how to spell the word SKY
trying to hide amongst people and diamonds, churchgoers and envelope stuffers.
What are these, my hands?
Monday, October 18, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
I didn't want to go out
but you can't ditch a friend on their 29th birthday
Driving over the bridge at night is still magical
it makes me remember to love this place; maybe the train wasn't running for just that reason
late night half-drunken meal concoctions
tulsi tea for breakfast
Even after all these months I still sleep on "my" side of the bed
but I think I'm getting used to sleeping alone.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
the smell of sap
girls in silly shoes
the smell of a man
patches of sunlight
going for it
mint tea in my favorite cup
pink nail polish
I have a cold.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
The greatest achievement is selflessness.
The greatest worth is self-mastery.
The greatest quality is seeking to serve others.
The greatest precept is continual awareness.
The greatest medicine is the emptiness of everything.
The greatest action is not conforming with the world's ways.
The greatest magic is transmuting the passions.
The greatest generosity is non-attachment.
The greatest goodness is a peaceful mind.
The greatest patience is humility.
The greatest effort is not concerned with results.
The greatest meditation is a mind that lets go.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
You know I've been to sea before
Crown and anchor me
Or let me sail away
Hey Blue, there is a song for you
Ink on a pin
Underneath the skin
An empty space to fill in
Well there're so many sinking now
You've got to keep thinking
You can make it through these waves
here is a shell for you
Inside you'll hear a sigh
A foggy lullaby
There is your song from me
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
steamed broccoli with lemon and butter
awesome mail from friends
getting my records back
late night yoga
Brooklyn brown ale
being reunited with my mixer, rolling pin, and immersion blender