cracking voice of “us”-
Dissonance springs from
Making a mistake
(question-mark)
Act I: Finale
wake up
intentions
love, the ability to:
Time: N/A
words form wilderness
wordless world- meaning
born by void in brain-
storm- avoid no
seeds sew heart-cloth -
remember home- no where
is water lily self-
home is crow, crane-
befriend
the creature home
whatever
anything
means.
_/ Playing music:
transform
joy/pain/strangeitude of “me”
into melody/harmony/cracking voice of “us”-
Dissonance springs from “why”
And “Hallelujah” \_
_/ Making a mistake in front of someone:
in front of all
the world, a stage
contains
(question-mark)
characters-
Act I: Finale
“This Is No Rehearsal” \_
_/ Doubting- Questioning- Unsure of- my actions:
I can wake up
I can come to
better understand
my intentions- \_
_/ This poem, writing-
love, the ability to:
Time: N/A \_
_/ 4 pm \_
_/ “Undertow” \_
_/ Writing a poem, reading this and that: \_
_/ find words form wilderness
in wordless world- meaning
borne of restless void in brain-
storm- avoid no weather
patterns repeat patterns
repeat patterns reap-
seeds sewn to heart-cloth like water lilies float-
remember home- get rid of no where \_
_/ pause- \_ _/ home is water lily self-
home is crow, crane, ghost, plant- \_
_/ above all other ‘above all else’s’, \_
_/ above all else, befriend \_
_/ the creature home \_
_/ you call your self- \_
whatever all this
if anything
means.
_/|\_
Had I that day alone–
that day to have not
known you, then,
I would’ve rolled
along that old
unobstacled
road-more-like a
wood-beside-the-water
path.
I would have
two-wheel rolled
a– long– with– fre– quent–
bumps, but on the wood
I would have rolled along
without a fall– (ing for-
ward)––– toward the rush
of River Street where I grew
up when I stepped outside
the thick flat ladder crosswalk lines.
I grew when I learned that lines
and motion are what define…
I followed invisible tracks
through Michigan snow,
dragging feet to make lines
to make a new road to make
a new world to do ––– something–––
with my self.
Up and down I grew when
I cycled up River Street and
stopped down by the
wooden river path,
the path right by the river.
I was that day alone
It was that day I learned
I know and
I know
and I know you
and I
not quite.
scooping up the ocean
with cupped hands
let all of who you are
love this water
because you are you
because water is water
big water
big heart
too much to hold
no need to
this love
in each drop of water
falling from your hands
returns to its vast oceanness
scooping up the ocean
with cupped hands
now hold this love
now give it all away
because you are not you
because water is not water
(Source: fuckyeahrumi, via zenmystic)
“I have lived on the lip
of insanity, wanting to know reasons,
knocking on a door. It opens.
I’ve been knocking from the inside.”― Rumi
(Source: fuckyeahrumi)
This is probably the best thing I’ve seen on the internet ever.
(Source: chotpot, via towelstoolandtoast)
It’s cloudy - I can’t see
the stars tonight. But I need
a constellation. I’m selfish.
Where did my stars go?
Wow, dumbstruck me,
notices that what I thought
all of this was isn’t it, at all…
it’s fading into…? You’re confusing yourself! You talk too much. Look!
Listen! Judgments, extra. This poem, extra. Just,… just what? That’s it!
Shouldn’t it be simple?
Should it?
It’s cloudy and hard to see.
