she

The rain had abated, she stood beneath the lamplight, taking random drags upon her cig, wondering if there were any significance that her left earring had broke, what could that have meant?!?

The fella she would have spent the apocalypse with had gone to take the dirt nap in the bone orchard, what left did she have?!?! How is it that she could make her life count for the both of them? Where was her car??!

The night breathed humid upon her and her scars, those both above and below, knowing it all too familiar in the pain that ebbed and flowed in her in her strung out, hung out veins.Such the legacy he left for her, all to familiar pain, the grief of love and loss, that was her life lesson, was it not?!? Her constant companion in this awful hour, to always be the one on the other side, having to pick up the pieces in the final hours, holding loved ones close and maintaining a vague sense of calm amognst the calamity of death. This legacy he had left to her, to run around the universe looking for that which she did not know. Death always leaves her lumbering in slumber, seeking the answers to the questions she hadn’t been able to hear over the constant low, slow moan of the death rattle.

For she knew the time was NOW, to break away from convention, leave the childish comforts of wounds behind, move away from the familiar, towards the unknown. To see what lay before her in the faded glory of all she had known, and all that he had gifted to her and to strive towards all that await her.

He had promised her Prague, yet, she chose Philly, it’s a P, so it counts, right?!? A place to redesign her life, her soul, a new chapter in her sordid story to tell in years to come.She was both brave and crazy, isn’t that the best intro to so many great stories?!? The gal who did the impossible, who sold her soul for the sake of adventure and poetry, and wished to be something more, yes, that’s who she wished to be, the legacy, the summation of her, for she had so much more to give, receive, and to be.

On the road again…

The rain swept heavy on the windshield, on the move again, always cloaked by night air and the faint stain of whiskey. Clementine knew she had stayed just a hair too long, had let the lousy locals nose about her door a touch too long, and feared she wouldn’t hit the highway in time to escape the fear.

She wasn’t meant to linger long, she had the very hounds of hell at her heels at all times, forcing her to strangle the accelerator of her trusted ’68 caddy. She couldn’t begin to account for the layers of dust upon her boots, or even begin to give a damn what, or where, was next. She was like a crumpled brown paper bag, at the will of the wind, blowing her from street corner to highway, no particular direction, just to fuckin’ GO!!!!

Each time she hit the pavement, she had less and less in her faded carpet bag, as if she didn’t lighten her load, it would hold her down, root her in one spot, crush her soul and steal her heart. Hell, it was a pretty beat up soul and rather dark heart, but they were hers, to do as she wished, to destroy and rebuild however she saw fit. No desire to atone for her numerous sins, as they kept her company when there was a lack of rowdy honky tonk to fill her ears and had found her tarnished flask on empty. The moon was her beacon, her travel companion, and the only one who hadn’t fucked her over, she could always count on the moon to guide her to her next destination of faded glory. This time, she had a faint clue, a mere whisp of an idea, and it made her chuckle with that low throaty growl that always rattled the other bar patrons.

She knew to keep a sharp eye for con artists and poachers, but the goddamn poets got her ever friggin time!! But for once, she would allow the poetic vibe thrown her way to pitch her into another scene, and perhaps, just maybe, she might stay for a bit, see what kinda trouble she could stir up, but hell, ya just never know…..

Move along

A solitary moment

 It lasted a month

I finally stood still

And heard the universe

It screamed in words too loud to hear

And whispered answers too soft to clutch

To now only see

I have been swimming in molasses

There is no allure in my here

As I long to be there

I yearn for the unkown

To frighten myself delightfully

To test my metal

And allow my heart to anticipate the world

Once again

Hummingbird nests

Two homes, one week

I tore viscious white light to both the North and South

My Nourthern Nest,

The one that brought me first sanctuary

When I was to young to understand the magnitude

Yet there I stood

Finding strength on a tiny Island when I was most broken

All those many years ago

Before I knew the faintest of the world we live in and life in general

To be so green, yet still so broken beyond my years

It was here, my first sanctuary,

That I found myself able to to no longer hold my breath

Sea salt, and low clouds brought me the renewal I hadn’t dared dream

And closure to that I had never dared hope.

My Southern nest,

That is yet a most delightful song

Sung in my heart

Truer than the purest factions of my soul

For here, I am safe

The Southern nest is where heart and soul find solitude

And weary bones may rest

Amongst love

Never to have dreamed to bounce from one to the other

Yet, some dreams undreamt may come to fruition

But only if you want and desire it enough

And if you open ones self to the call of the Universe

Such great fortune have I

To have two nests, and one complete heart

Lucky lil Hummingbird am I

Kitchen table wisdom

Through sanctuarys door

I hang my hopes on the appropriate hook

Sending my troubles scampering over white washed window sills

Pond frogs singing the evening lament

As my belongings settle in

The quiet cloud cover sweeps away the remains of road heat

Upon the table, two glasses, one bottle

And I await the familiar foot steps on the weathered wood

So that significant conversations about nothing

Will lend to the slumber of the angels

As my weary bones and sleepy head bliss out

I have never subscribed to the saying that you can never go home again

Radio days

Remember the days,

When your dreams were told over the crackled static of early FM?

And so many lovers laments seemed so much your own?

The lazy, sticky afternoons swimming through the syrup of August,

Waiting, anticipating, yearning for THAT ONE SONG!

The song that strummed your hearts strings and pricked the tender edges of  such spent youth.

Spinning the dial, waiting for the jackpot of the familiar strains

Knowing how the song will tangle with wind swept hair

And propel you further

To any place you imagine.

Such desires I shall never abandon.

Dreamland

I miss witnessing

The faint blue

Of the dying night.

For when dreams are not dreamt

They can not be forgotten

A walk, and a talk

It amazes me, how simple gestures can change the landscape as I know it. Sometimes, a friend can hear your silent plea, feel your quiet desperation, and they appear, as if magic, to help you clear the cobwebs from your heart. To share an evening stroll, keep company with a hearing impaired puppy and to allow the hard words fall from your lips. Tonight, I did not walk alone in any sense, for a true friend kept stride and kept confidance.

All of this dispair, welling inside of me, no visible outlet, afriad I would never find the words to properly articulate my fears, sometimes a friend has the key you do not posses. Perhaps I simply desired a friend to honestly need to be there, who wanted so much to hear what was pushed so far down in my head and my heart. Sometimes, you just do not know what you need, or how to begin to ask for help, sometimes, a hug can cause the avalanche of words to spill out, and it begins to take shape, and make some vague sense once you hear your own voice speaking it all. Lacking in the ever lurking fear of judgement, the freedom to drop it all on the cool, rough pavement, to stare at it for the first time, bleak and sad, lost and lonely, vulnerable and frightened, I am, and was told that it is okay.

What shall I ever do with it now I have confronted it,  that is simply to much for me to grapple with tonight. For once, I didn’t desire to give it all up to the moon, but to be raw with emotion on a personal level, something I usually find rather uncomfortable, ah, the curse of the fringe dweller. But what am I if I do not grow, who could I ever wish to become if I kept everyone at arms length? So much I would miss if I didn’t allow others entry to me, and all of the ever tumbling mess of  beauty and sadness.

Renewed

An afternoon at the beach to baptize myself and embrace the next phase. Sun, sand and surf, how it appeals to me so! Each wave passing over brings with it a renewed sense of self definement, washing away self doubt and fear. Shall I forever marvel at the sea and all of its mystery, the enticing power demanding respect. For some, the ocean waters flow in their veins, and for me, the waves constant push and pull mesmerize me, perhaps that which is my very heart beat.

Standing at the waters egde, proving I am able to stand alone, strong in my convictions, no amount of force will throw me down for long. To have faith in the uncertainty of the future stretching beyond the horizon, I am utterly in the moment, lost and found all at once. The sea tinged air pushing its way through my salt tumbled hair, eyes squinting with the sun and smile of it all, a fragile chamber in my soul is filled.

For with intentions pure, and a heart that is true, I do not feel the weight of any of it. I am lifted with the freedom of the swooping gulls over the vast ocean waters and I land with a peacefull knowledge that I am safe within myself. I know that as this wave has passed, that the next is to come, perhaps larger, more powerful, and I am ready.

Distraction

Late night urges, compulsions over taking the the need for sleep. Oh, the endless, boundless wanderlusts, when will such things stop plagueing me?

Warm evening breezes brings forth the promise of the unknown, my very nature finds this all too appealing. The allure of the countless possibilities, adventures that may be awaiting me, I follow the command. Moonlight soaked conversations, the ebb and flow of it mesmerizes me, luring me to the uncommon scenario. Music tempts me, draws me into the rythmic, pulsating trance. I can not turn my self away from it, deny that which propels me further in my multitude of quests, to do so would be like that of a small death.

Unbound, fearless, expectant, I seek it all. Filling the empty spaces that crave experiance, electing to follow the energy that may temporarily quiet all of the unequal aspects of me, my desires. To push aside the stupor of the mundane, seek out the fascination, break the confines to further meet my needs.

I am distracted.