Saturday, February 26

Woman in Seach of the Cosmos

Last night
under the blanketed silence of the city
water from the snow melt outside made its way in
filling up her room of memories carried from past places

There were cutout cardboard crows with blood red hearts looking left
and an owl feather plucked from the myth of death taken from high places
there was even a bumblebee yellow 1970 paper Pontiac GTO

She was carried out by way of the second story window
floating effortlessly past those by now infamous purple curtains
beyond which laid a whole world
unknown to her






And in her dream she called out to the waters of death: "Take me" she cried, and her voice echoed out into the vastness of boundlessness, nothing to bounce off of, nothing to hold onto. "Take me whole and take now, fill me with your element and lay beside me as I float from this second story of my mind"

As she sank into the falling sands of time, she wondered what would become of her, she wondered what she would make of it all

And there were others. And they too were swimming around her. They kept asking her for things, always they were needing something from her. Watching all this happen in disbelief, she shifted her attention to to a non translatable discourse on the Atlantic ocean being born today. Right now. Here. In front of her dreaming eyes, salt crystals forming. Filling her, engulfing her, becoming her. Becoming one.

"Because there is no separation, right?"

But even so,
as she swam over the copper capitol of the city, she still longed for those damp Pacific Northwest nights
fire engine red Fuji bikes
girl girl tryst
bridges
and those long in breaths
found
while sitting
naked
in claw foot bath tubs
touched
ever so delicately by lavender
and candle light

Completely submerged
she became that water
and with every inhale
she sunk deeper into the endless ocean of light

The penetrating taste of salt on her pouting lips
pursed
waiting
longing
wondering
where to?
How, when?
Who?

But now
here
in this late night excursion
beyond dreams
of the fallen tree limbs of providence
beyond reality
of the continuum of global instability
she's swimming into a space surrounded by Japanese paper lanterns
seeped now in northeast pine
she's sinking into the salty waters of confusion and doubt
wandering about in search of her misplaced joy and firm decision making
she's found herself in a space of don't know
cause she don't know where it went
and she still don't know how she woke up in this ocean state, under white blankets and a room full of gray

She's decided to take up sailing
but is finding
in this pre-dawn storm of laughter
under a darkened February sky
nothing of what she came looking for
but still
she wanders about
like a child
around Christmas time
in search of Santa

What mask this time?

She's wondering
if there really is a mote holding anything back at all
let alone her
back
from
this
this: the eternal timeless realms of all there is

Her footsteps
silent now
as she swims over the antiquated wooden floor boards from bed to bath
bath to tea
tea to floor
she's losing sight of the path under all this water

Its cloudy and foggy and raining outside
and that terrifies her beyond the combined salt marshes of her mind

Flying into her heart
are blackbirds, dancing in this rain
shimmering
into a deeper dance of what this is

Jazz
or ballet?

Perhaps Opera?

Yet still, she finds a calling to just run away
to be high
in the mountains
sitting with nothing other
then the sky
a warm cup of tea
a beautiful man
true love at 9,400 FT

"I could touch the sky
I could drink the stars
I could taste myself"

Cause even the streetlights trigger her now
even the smell of her dad's car

She hears him say "One foot in front of the other young lady
one foot
just keep moving
just keep moving"

Whatever is there is there
is there
no where to run to
no where to go
its there
whatever is there is there
its THERE
meaning
its here
right now
its here
in this mind
in this body
in this heart
this karma
from a past I don't even know anymore

No where to go. Nothing to do. That's what the zenies like to say.

But perhaps, this time
I'll just crawl back into a warm bed
and swim under those white blankets of surrender into the myth of tomorrow