My soul, my very soul feels this warmth approaching as if I were heated by becoming closer and closer to the sun. The sheer emotional reaction of this anxiousness meeting the steadfast faithfulness you carry within the very hope I hang onto is an overwhelming mix of laughter and tears. For everything is right in front of me, I am on the very brink of this waterfall and once my sails catch the wind just right- I shall fly free down the very wind holding these sails upright..
Have you ever known your life would never be the same? I can’t help but lean into your heart just a little bit more for catching a whisper or advanced notice of what is to come. Your the only thing sustaining me and all of this sustenance is miraculous and cannot be blamed on happenstance. It is providence and my manna, my blessing instead of my reaping, my desires about to be met instead of my expectations disappointed.. Where I have been deferred you have uttered compensation. Where I suggested and begged for, you have appointed and superceded my wishes..
This is both the furthest and closest our souls have been since a piedmont moon hung overhead.
… Now for the adventure to begin
490
489
I saw a shooting star tonight, it was beautiful. All death should be as vibrant as that, a vibrant display across the skies.. It wasn’t when I was looking for it, it happened when I just opened my eyes after some nap time in the hot tub after I had spent a good 30 minutes laying on the sand watching the stars.. I didn’t even wish on them for anything, I think I’m just grateful for everything already within my heart..
488
On vacation. And by vacation, I mean a weekend which I am still covering phone calls for someone who is on a literal vacation for 8 days. But this is purely spectacular for my soul. Pool boy, pools, ocean front, people cutting loose and having a great time. Seeing parents and grandmother. Absolutely wonderful.
487
One of these days, my soul will meet it’s match, and that person, whoever he may be, will be the victim of all of this love churning within me like the combination of an avalanche, tidal wave, hurricane and tornado..
But every day until then, and even then, I LOVE every inch of this life and every mile traced on the map where I make my home along the way. I will still be filled with the kind of estrogen and hopeless romantic ways that cause day dreams and falling oh too quickly in love with everyone I meet.
So dear soul mate, whoever you are, you are the luckiest man alive to get me.
486
Maybe it was the daydream state while resting on the plane, or just the melodic feeling of how absolutely blissful it can be when you let go of everything and fly by the seat of your pants; but there was daydreaming. It was pleasant in the ‘we were on a picnic in the park sort of way’ with water nearby and we were beneath the shade of a tree as though it were our own ceiling of leaves.. And there we were, familiar with our lives and tangled up within them, we ate and laughed and it was a beauty full kind of day, the way they can all be. In that moment, it was special, but there was the promise of something everlasting- how we weren’t the kind to be destructive to a relationship, to cause the pain of words said without thought to consequence, instead, we nurture the way one would treasure what we would have, something priceless.. There would be something sacred about us..
A little deep for seat 30f I guess.. But the weight is lifted from the situation when gravity is defied
485
Cartwheels in the grass, scraped knees and colored hands from hours of sidewalk chalk drawings in the summer mornings. I am missing my nieces and wish to be childlike all over again..
484
i prayed to a statue of jesus today, poured out my heart in a cemetary off of highway 6 between oxford, ms and the interstate. i couldn’t help it, the car drove itself in there and my feet walked me to it. he was there, a carved marble jesus holding a lamb, with another at his feet. it may have been the pain medicine talking, but i am pretty sure it was all me. it was a private prayer, honest and exposing, but i was there for about 30 minutes, crying it all out while the sun began to set. i’ve been crying ever since actually-the kind of tears where they just stream out of your eyes without you being able to stop. maybe edged on by the pain in the kidney, i really need to be in a city long enough and with enough advanced notice to be able to laser that sucker because it flares up every time i am stressed.
regardless, i am in pain, both in spirit and in flesh and am looking for comfort. soothe my soul.
483
In a room called the basement where live music is flooding my soul, filling the airwaves and filling the broken up pavement and pot holes within the road that the prodigal heart is running back on- smoothing it out..
I’ve been wrung out like a rag, but today, I’m soaking up the water as though I were fresh to the baptismal pool, a new soul in the river. You could insert hymns into this solemn moment, but instead, indie rock is the choir and the venue is not a chapel, but a dingy basement filled with funky haircuts and perfectly disheveled ‘I don’t really care’ thoughtfully put together people. We are crammed in this place enjoying ourselves, experiencing sound waves reverberate within our core, bass keeping time with my ventricles and guitars strumming the blend of minor and major chords- I think I’ve been in this exact place their lyrics and melodies describe.. Piedmont moments all captured by the unknown who were able to put it to melody and chord charts and bring it here, to me.. So we two, we enjoy the newness and the experience of hearing something so invested in, we, halfheartedly and absentmindedly absorb. I can’t help but want to be somewhere else.. With someone else..
482
How we cycle and change, get pulled at the seams and have our brokenness funneled into our veins, there is gravel in the blood and despair in the voice. But my vocal chords feel like church bells, singing of better days to come.. We are separate and parallel, a fully functioning work of art with mechanics requiring some oil, my gilded frame was destroyed today, a perfect breaking which I orchestrated solely on my own.. The heart and soul both went on strike- it was a lapse in belief where the living in transition finally caught up with me. Somewhere between lugging 4 suitcases in and out of my car just to find a running shoe had me throw an article of clothing, albeit, not so very far, in a childish emotional surrender. And my replacement fights me tooth and nail, and my gratitude comes at not being stretched over 7 states, but 4, and my hope will sustain me as sustenance will. But my boundaries are finite and realized, my body somewhat rested, though in need of nurture and fully I am human though eternal still.. Today has been a learning experience indeed.
481
The calendar days are passing so quickly, breaking my heart, hope was buried within the numbers and days to where I am doubting if I heard your voice or not. There was a root of trust that was planted in our garden, but I haven’t lost that bit of faith, though I’m aware of what the tangible looks like and i’m reminding myself that this is so much bigger than me.. There is one date remaining which is circled and marked, it’s a vulnerable thing to leave a dream attached to 2 numbers, a risky thing indeed..
480
Freshly paved highways, a west bound lane on a route I’ve driven a hundred times.. Lulled to enchantment by a soundtrack made half a decade ago while I drive into the sunset once again. This life, though lived up in the air, has me firmly planted in beautiful experiences which saturate into me and cause even my heart to reflect the beauty the way the moon does the sun. I’m a fortunate soul indeed, meet toe to toe with the most beautiful friends one can be in relationship with, and roam the earth in readiness for adventure.. In a few moments, the orange and grey sky will darken, this silver dusk will change to shadows and the beauty of the evening will be counted by lovers who wish on every one.. Though without that kind of love, my heart bubbles over with it anyhow, wishes and quiet dreams. ..regardless of what is lacking, it is the most fullness one can dream of
479
52 miles away from one- 116 miles away from another, both cities are home, both cities will always be a place to land, one to be welcomed into whenever my soul needs a reprieve.. Each offers a familiar comfort, my port city provides the blanket for my heart, salt air that is paired with wine for that taste which lingers on the lips. My queen city provides the pace which I’ve set the heart beat to involuntarily and a melody within the electrically charged streets. Both are laughter and joy, neither are pain.. I’ve needed these sandy, beach streets to re-fuel my spirit and am looking forward to a night within the walls of my parents home for the joy only family can provide. There has not been much rest in my days the past few months, but every now and then, there needs to be moments like tonight which bring it all down to the serene quiet of a silent smile..
478
i’m going to learn the skyline as though it were the back of your hand, map out the city streets like they were the lines of your smile and fall head over heels in love with the pace and the feel of the sidewalks under my feet. new to my senses, and i can’t wait for the adventure of learning who you are.
477
the more i think about it, the more i feel like they are trying to keep us apart, prevent us from our May. the more i think about it, i’m trying so hard to hold onto it, it will surely be removed from my grasp, it might as well be willingly. i’ve always been one to fight for something, to be last one out of the ring, but this time is different. there is no fight to be had, no control or effort to be had. this is feels like something that is happenstance and we are pawns on a map covered chess board, our characters carved and standing until forced and moved without our consent. often i wonder if the queens or knights silently question the skill of the hands that arrange their location, i have, yet the more i question the unseen, the more i start to think of the whole board which is just out of my line of sight. i think it would be nice though, maybe get a little insight from the one who places me in the squares would be nice, some cradling where my whispered questions are met with sound.. when the 12th and 15th are too varied of moments, even though it’s weeks away. and the very months’ name means illusion. and i dont know how many more things i can take being promised and then removed.. but love, nothing of true substance i feel can be promised, so these carrots dangling too far from my reach and then your name shows up daily, it is there, and it is a sweet moment in time that is frozen just like the very first time we met..
476
these currents have all of my emotions in them, surface layers of disappointment in the delay, deeper ones of complete contentment and the strongest is that of pure joy. there is excitement and hope for all that is about to happen, and an unwaivering flame for a fire that is so much bigger than me.
i’m making lists and documenting dreams so i can check them off when they come true.
474
i have just a few words floating around my thoughts, and only a few moments to release them into the universe. it was only a few hours within a few days and though there appeared to be another, there wasn’t. every touch, every hand grasp was electric. i felt it every time..
473
things have changed rather quickly, as they always do, and i’m looking forward to new skylines and views of a place i’ve never even visited, now will be calling it home. though i’m calculating deposits and miles, this heart seems to be rather free.
472-wreckage
It smelled like smoke and running oil, all i could remember was how much my chest burns. So I must’ve looked like one of those people on the weather channel who get interviewed after some chaos rips their home apart. We were on that interstate for an hour. I remember waiting, the not being able to breathe. Not even noticing there were cars driving by. There was the scent of black and milds from the tow truck truck driver who once lived in gastonia as who wants to move to my hometown and work at the port. I texted a friend who works there and took a few work calls.. I think at this point my chest was bruised with the skin swollen and still burned from the airbag. I thanked god for the airbag. I don’t remember the car stopping, but I remember getting my suitcase and sitting in a red chair for 2 hours while waiting for the rental car place for 2 hours. I was mad. I was shaking. All I could think about was my schedule and I was late. There was a man at the counter who was talking about some meal he once had while the people were helping him, he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt that had hot sauce and umbrella drinks on it, all I could think of was how much I hated bloody Mary’s and hated those shirts and how much I was in pain..
I remember signing papers and telling the guy the car hadn’t been cleaned, handing him an empty water bottle from the backseat and showing him a cigarette burn, I remember i looked at the map once and didn’t need my gps after that.
And somehow I kept working without realizing it. then i tried to recoup a piece of my soul and meet myself again on the shores of the gulf, the whole afternoon and night was one of the worst times of my life, i searched for solace but there were only danger signs and the most ugly scene. that was the day i met the gulf of mexico. i hated it. with all my heart.
471-all over the place
i should start by describing the color, dark, illuminated by 2 small street lamps, with a small glow from my window and an occasional flash of lightning. the sounds are just as enchanting, traces of thunder, the slushing sound that accompanies tires when making their way through puddles and the light rain that is still landing in the yard around me. of course there is that unmistakable ‘fresh, spring rain’ scent that mixes pollen, a heated afternoon and earth into one fresh captured fragrance, makers of detergents and soap have yet to capture it properly. and of course, there is the taste of rain drops that met the rim of my mug which met the lips and tongue with my hot tea, delightful all of these things are pleasant to the senses, not at all overwhelming. but this is one of the nights that is not at all distant from my soul, in fact, yesterday was the first night in a while where i felt at home within your presnce for quite some time. a melody spawned from that quiet place like it was a sunrise over a horizon, and my soul was the treescape. it was fitting for a dance, where trust bellows like the song from churchbells and you can feel it blocks, almost miles away. it was in that moment where i remembered the movement of my spirit within a world, within a room, within myself and it was that tasting of the wine that i remembered. all that i have craved and desired, like slow dances on lazy front porch evenings can be funneled into one source of dream provision and i can barely cross the threshold of want and need without wondering how much my full cup can still receive in the manners of goodness and love.
within the confines of this evening, it is hard to map out everything i’m thinking and feeling, hard to pinpoint the areas of my heart that are erupting, it is the action before the reaction, the tectonic plates shifting and moving and causing friction before the actual tremors, shakes and tidal waves. i could spend a day standing in front of you, showing my heart and leave more confused than before it was all uncovered. i know the dynamite is within me, the explosion stands to come at some point, but it is requiring the necessary matches, flames and fire to meet the cables before i can become the fireworks in the darkness..
470
Today was needed, though nowhere close to a vacation, I felt at rest while working and almost a reprieve for the soul. I am counting down the days until I get a massage, but want to be almost fully packed before I do, it might take a few hours to get these knots out..
Tonight I stayed home, worked on projects needing completion for my furniture, wrapped up the end of day reports, did laundry and the dishes, played both santigold to be my nights soundtrack.
There is no lyric or melody in my head tonight, only a to do list
469
it’s again dusk, my heart is light after my workout and since i’ve cleaned out closets and given what i don’t wear away; no use moving it a few hundred miles if i won’t put it to use. i met my match in steep hills today, felt like i should become one with the mountains to make my coming separation from them as real as possible.
468
the songs have filled my mouth like wine does, bitter and sweet, brought from fruit. they’ve returned after an absense that marked me greatly- an abandonment felt in my soul. but as forgiveness heals, the songs have been welcomed back like an apologetic lover, though the songs never commited anything to me, each one was a gift without promise of another and i think i am the only to blame for their leavng. i’ve tinkered with the melodies and lyrics like a child plays with blocks, building sentences and poetry within harmonies like they were skyscrapers to a toddler. nudging a few lines here, retracting words quicker than they are sung, flirting with the ideas like the relationship calls for. and even now, a sunset paused over my head, a glass of cabernet blend playing tricks on my lips, the wild air-untamed when it plays within the open windows of this hillsborough village cafe. and the air is filled with coffee, a nectar like fragrance, but i have felt it full of prose and intelligent whimsy, fighting for the humorous twist of eloquance written. i have missed this distraction, this moment filled with words made out of stories funneling themselves through the caverns of my mind, and the way it takes over my day dreams and seeing them on pages, printed and leather bound.
467
it’s a somewhat quiet night, filled with sounds of the train, ambulance and fire truck sirens, radiohead soundtrack, the traffic driving dangerously fast in front of my porch and the thoughts that swirl in my head leaving traces of voices once heard and the lingering sounds from movie clips i’ve seen, but once upon a time. these have been a pensive few days. the kind of pensive that i dive head first into before purging the closets before a move.. the same routine, down to a science.
dreamy, dreamy moving boxes..
466
today i felt like a trailer in the middle of a tornado, aluminum walls under the heat of wind and an in-viscid irrotational flow which knows no rationality.. an unhuman mass of pressure which at its’ core is violent and one of the most beautiful things i’ve ever beheld. the sheer terror and fear once the hail began the assault on the salty ground, a pre-curser we all knew would be launched from the clouds which in only seconds would breed a funnel, a breath taking vortex that drops and moves as it pleases. i’m only in awe and fearful respect for this act which knows only a boundary i cannot enforce on it. no, all of my concrete boundaries are still made of sand and broken, breakable things, why shouldn’t it yield under the pressure?
my focus was scattered in the fields of the wreckage, the aftermath. and though there was no real damage, nothing that was devastating about this storm, there has been an upheaval which has left me calm, collected and with a realization that i need a vacation.
465
this tennessee weather leaves me in the grandest of puddles, my bright green umbrella was made for the kind of days where waterfalls cascade over clouds into my city and the gardens around this temporary house. but the sun is intermitently bright, and tonight, on this night, it is clearing up and the aligned paths of jupiter and venus are once again beside each other.. a distance of less than a hand apart, but seemingly as always, it is a hand a few thousand light years wide and the expanse between those wander struck planets need more than gravity and want to unite them..
we’re eerily quiet, erring on the side of silence and our forever ways of being distant. too much time and space, too much change to my ways, all of the things you never really knew have changed into evolved things you could never hold onto, and i wonder, would you actually remember my face in the streets, would you recognize me? i hardly do.. all of these zip codes have been adventures for the unknown in me. a little bit of travel and getaway has been the ever present fuel for the inferno raging inside, the stagnant waters of the largest lakes and ponds have never held a candle to even the smallest of seas, the currents of the wind have been my vehicle and i’ve remainded nervous at the prospect of four walls and a roof that is anything but a rental.. my permanence is tied down by strings that are miles long, root systems that stretch states, countries and continents, but our moments were fleeting and blood was found on my scissor blades after the cords were cut from my heart to yours.
i’m dreading leaving what is so west to my eastern coastline. as much as i miss the salt air, there has been a freedom to roaming free and i can’t help but wonder, if the choice truly is mine to make, why am i being pulled so close to home? this part of the piedmont is still somewhat uncharted for me, an unmapped conquest for me, brand new adventures and habits to make; but its’ too close to former years and not far enough in the future..
464
these hardwood floors creak and groan, they aren’t level, they bend and bow as this house has settled and sunk. heat escapes with the basement in clear view from a few places between the cracks and crevices here. my neighbor drops cigarettes between the planks of his, i act like mine don’t exist. though these are of questionable integrity and every summers’ heat since 1910 has warped and moved these floors like a parachute, i dance and hold my claim on them as though they were solely built for me.. only me. the birth, the life, the tears, the joy, the secrets, the anger, the death and every lack and plenty they’ve seen, i feel like i’m in tune with the stories it holds. -each plank worn with heel marks and footprints far too similar to my own, marks of furniture dragged across the floor the way i try not to do.. i’ve been sleeping well again, no longer kept awake by whatever haunted my nights and steadily woke me in the early hours where midnight meets morning. peace settled in like the decay in the corners of the plaster and moulding, peace has gilded my sleep with rest and tranquility. how beautiful this life is, how beautiful my experience within it, every year, and sometimes twice within, i get to move, to become aquainted with and fall in love with a new town. a new skyline awaits me in each one with a sunset and sunrise i too quickly become attached to. and while leaving these beloved cities has me leaving the friends and routines i’ve become attached to, i’m fortunate enough to know that another city, another skyline, another world on an eastern shore will hold my ideas soon enough.
‘we’re gonna be alright, we’re gonna be alright, you can close your eyes tonight cause we’re gonna be alright.’
463
it’s like you can chisel the stars out of the sky, just break them out, like the starts are set up in the fabric of space and all these molecular structures seem to weave themselves in and out of it.. And at night when it is dusk and it is cold, dark, and the light changes from silver to dark and beside that window, I shower in that light, I could beg for the spring but instead i want for you to bring on the winter. that water is like a baptismal, and edifice of sort, the way it writes me warm, rinses me clean and the water covers my forehead until i’m completely immersed as though it were all of the love i have for you until it forms puddles at my feet. It’s no wonder people sing in the shower, personal space so intimate and vulnerable and everything that you are is underwater at the same time, and in this space, you’re still there, still standing, you can’t help but allow the song to escape from your diaphragm.. all these words seem like a beautiful swalllow now, like they are acrobatic, feeding only in the skies. we were inviting in- invigorating- a result of chattering conversation where we talk until wee hours of the morning, our heads on pillows and our hearts on clouds. the dawn will wake us then, the dawn always wakes those who dream. dreams where your face is real but stolen, loss and defeat.
live within the answers..
461
how boring this selected life of mine, a fortunate soul which basks in the silvery, purple light of dusk while the hardwoods creak under my feet. a perfectly worn in couch sits me perfectly, nestled while watching movies and tv much longer than what i like.. what happened with my love affair with books? the words and pages used to hold my soul captivated until my eyes were red and i was up until the wee hour f the morning and the book was finished, hours after i picked it up..
where oh where is the pensive among the exquisite?
