Monthly Archives: April 2011

Water Sign

I am faceless
In a body of water
Gathering, always gathering

It starts with three
As I try to escape my current reality
By drowning in vodka
I do too good of a job escaping
And I’m a bad swimmer

There’s a boy with the knit scarf
and dark rimmed glasses
but, that may be the problem: he’s a boy
I need a man
and the man is there
I find him in the form of a well dressed,
soft spoken stranger
but he scares me because his eyes don’t agree
with his words.

I am heightened, out of myself,
and from above I trust less and less
I see subtlety
I spread my wings as if to land finally
and realize, grounded,
I have never left
three heads on the ground, they surround me

The last one, he has always been there
watching when he thinks I’m unaware
but aspiring towards redemption
I become the eagle,
and unlike his fallen, crawling, scorpion brother,
am always aware
this man in his striped cardigan
rejects me and the torment I suffer
I keep within, a sunburst sore searing me

A faceless flight,
I pray for transcendence
to leave this place and land where I’m wanted.

The next morning

a Buddhist monk
Boards my morning rush hour train
Maybe he’s part of the Tibetan Mission
To the UN
travelling to visit this borough of New York
Where his family has emigrated

There is always room
To ponder
when a Buddhist monk enters
smiling as anyone else
seemingly comfortable and so familiar
in his holiness amidst the un-holiness
of public cross-borough transportation

It makes me ask myself why
I couldn’t have gotten up thirty minutes
earlier and practiced some yoga
to send myself off into the day with the light
beside me, as they say,

It makes me wonder how
early the monk had risen and how
many heads he’s blessed with how
Many prayers he’s sent into the Universe
And would I be just as blessed
If he were to graze my head as I passed by?
I stood close for the chance to receive
my blessing

I suppose from where his home is
and the places hes travelled to
he must have seen all and been phased by none
I wonder if anyone else questioned themselves
this morning as they rode in the presence of enlightenment
Surely the man across from me
eating a can of Pringle’s for breakfast must have
silently vowed to better his health

Chance, the person who can’t decide if
they’re more comfortable as my friend or my foe

The day passes in a speeding blur
I don’t know if im having a good time
or losing in a whirlwind of living
without thinking
It’s hard to focus and everything I do
is subject to indictment by my own mind
I’m not quite sure what I’m doing,
but I’m doing the best goddamn job of it still

I hurdle, 400 meters at a time
with baton in hand, counting my blessings
in the storms of
‘I want’, ‘I wish’, ‘I should’
hoping there’s someone around the bend
to pass the stick off to
so I can feel victory, just a sip of it, for a moment
and understand the feeling of
‘I am’

I look around to see who’s watching me
the familiar face I catch is my own
I run and as fast as I run I am still earthbound
I swim and hide under the depths
but am purged upwards on land
here, where my battles are.
I didn’t get to choose

Choice, the illusion which so easily triumphs
over my friends and my foes.

The face
of my body
surrounded by Water
I gather
the courage to walk into Fire.


Skin Shell Outer Less

Be fallen
Strength of white flags
Validation in bleeding maybe
The weak are strong maybe
The strong are weak
Shells can break, walls do crumble
But fresh wounds heal
Endure, accept
Walk into fury to touch the flames
Burn over, burn again
and raw flesh
will be as tolerable
as toothache

Windex On My Mirror

Remember when you told me
I wasn’t tall enough
for you?
I wore heels the next day
but, I like my height.
It’s easier to feel protected this way
Though, I never felt protected
by you.

Remember when you told me
I wasn’t thin enough
for you?
I tried to lose weight
but, I like my curves.
There’s more of me to admire
Though, I never felt admired
by you.

I’ll take back now
my parasitic affections
and remove the leeches
of my emotions
off of you,
one by one,
until you are bare
of me.

You’re free to go now.
And when you leave I won’t follow.
If you stay I won’t want you.
This is because I care
about you
but now I care
about me too.

So Brave And New

I left his apartment and it was still drizzling. I looked for a cab, slightly annoyed but determined. Me, the perpetual commuter, always en route: new destination, home base, spontaneous adventure, dutiful visits, home base, next destination, etc.

Spring is playing hard to catch and I’m just sick of it. I march on everyday stubbornly in my colorful palate of spring skirts, jackets and accessories in rebellion of the gloom, rain and cold hoping to seduce the sun. The same time last year, flowers were in full bloom and outdoor patios for bars and restaurants were buzzing with life and excitement for even warmer months ahead. I’m not sure who to blame for this year’s lack of re-birth. The recent tsunamis? The patterns of global earthquakes? Has our atmosphere abandoned celebration of the changing seasons? This concerns me but I am not shaken. I am working on trying not to place blame.

I get into the cab and order them to my neighborhood over the 59th Street Bridge. On little sleep but, satisfied after a long night of fun and conversation, I decided to take this cab ride as a mental prep for the day ahead of me. Another mundane day in this life which has become stagnant but, this day just as any day, could be the beginning of the rest of it all. We cross Times Square and I wince at the thought of rushing back here for my morning meeting in less than two hours. The deli workers and breakfast shops are well into their day, moving effortlessly through the early morning mist. A little Jewish boy adorned with yamaka and all, was blowing bubbles at an intersection. (He might have belonged to one of the deli workers.) After each large bubble he blew he screamed, “GOODBYE, I LOVE YOU!” And repeated this happily. He too, understood transcendence at this early age.

We drive past Will Ryman’s larger than life flower sculptures scattered across Park Avenue uptown and this electrifies me inside. The size and ardor of Ryman’s roses rising into the city fog halted me for a minute and suspended me in my dreamlike state as I was transported between my present and my future in a New York City cab. I tried to roll down the windows and snap a picture but the lights changed and I wished it goodbye and thought, I love you.  I intend to visit these roses again.

Will Ryman Roses Sculpture from Paul Kasmin Gallery Website

Melting back into my thoughts I felt the churning again. For a long time now, I’ve felt a deep, powerful churning within the pit of my stomach that radiated outwards to my bones until my entire body was trembling and begging for metamorphosis. The process continues and the evolution will be steady and paced, I’m sure, but inevitable. This yearning has manifested itself upwards towards my thoughts and outwards in my speech until every action and opinion of mine projected large dosages of transformation unto the world around me; changing my perspectives on routine, hobbies, people, diet, destinations, ideas. A steel rose blossoming from a concrete garden; my world is changing.

I had a nightmare the night before.  I was among my best girlfriends and all of a sudden, as I stood a dumbfounded bystander, a massive assault ensued as each one wielded a weapon and preyed on the next. The victim would die and to my bewilderment, before I could digest the trauma they came back to life and continued to pursue whoever was still standing. Now if you ask them they might find this hysterical coming from my mind that they know so well but, of course to outsiders this insinuates a twisted, violent subconscious at bay. In my defense, after reflecting on it consciously, I realized the randomness of the massacre was formed by my mind trying to grab at anything it could to interpret what lay heavy on my shoulders each day behind layers of distraction: impending change.

“Paleomammalian” – Lost within my own depths. Pastel by Margaret Wang

At this point in our lives, our days were ripe with engagements, weddings, pregnancies and new families. Massive changes were taking place in our midst and as intertwined as our lives were, one friend’s life change affected each of us and we were all moving forward en masse, closing chapters of our friendship behind us and letting us each grow into the next chapter, together. Hence the systematic “killing” of each other and the people we once were, to the reincarnation of each and their newfound paths. This, coupled with my deep sense of unrest confirmed my readiness to tear down all that I knew and rebuild from ashes. Successful change results from sacrificing ways of life you have always known. As a Scorpio and a master of adaptation, I was ready for the challenge. Rise, Phoenix, rise.

"Phoenix" - Reborn from ashes. Pastel by Margaret Wang

After these recent years spent living for reaction, living for someone, living to fall into something whether it be love, wealth, happiness or stardom, I’ve realized with sadness (but empowerment) that these were years lost and along with the years were all the identities I had assumed until now. I am no longer an undergrad, a dancer, a sorority sister, a girlfriend or whatever else I once proclaimed so confidently. But I recognize this as the perfect opportunity for me to shed the shells of these images like old scabs and be reborn in an amplified form of myself. (Recognition is an understated and powerful weapon in life.) For this, I am very excited. Massive, determined action executed with conviction will surely propel me forward. I’ll take any path as long as it’s a new path and I will carry my vulnerabilities within me.

How will I keep composure with my weaknesses embraced, you wonder? I will examine myself closely; physically and psychologically. I will know all of my strengths and shortcomings. I will admit them to the world and be free of judgment and vanity. And if I should waver, I will pray: Dear Lord I pray, these three things you’ll take away, my envy, doubt and fear so I may gain peace and insight here, in the darkness and underwater, to think freely, breathe deeply, walk slowly, live surely again. Amen. Like a house, I will build first then fill the rooms. With the right pieces adorning the insides and outsides, hopefully I will attract the right energies and people who will admire it. If I ask I shall receive, and if I believe my dreams will be conceived.

Looking back, in the darker times of my 26 years, I desperately searched for light, no matter how dull or small the beams were. It wasn’t until I learned (rather recently) that in those times I was the light, filled with light, made of light that I was delivered from my fear and doubt. Life begins again slowly, blossoms surely and everything everywhere now is brand new once more. I got out of the cab and walked up to my apartment. I still need to confirm my 9:15 meeting on this wretched work day. I will lead with my best pedicured foot forward and march towards my deliverance in my finest metallic italian leather stilettos.

Spring Heels. . .blossoming.

Leaving Me

I miss you most
When you’re sleeping
Next to me
When you’ve furrowed away safely
Under your beloved blankets and
Faithful pillows

There, I lose you to your secret world
Where your incoherent grunts
Slight nods and tossing
Respond to whatever your dreams may carry

I am envious of where you go
And how you find that kind of peace
I am envious because I can never
Find that kind of peace

I want so badly to inch
A little closer
To remind myself we are together
On different halves of this same bed

But I wouldn’t dare
For fear that I might brush away
The serenity you feel you so deserve

And there is a dull insistent ache
When I wonder what security
The comforters bring you
Which my side of the bed cannot

%d bloggers like this: