young noir

rain was licking the drainpipes and teasing the window glass like a young film noir star throwing shade ona honeymoon killing spree in 1953. the screen was silver and we polished it, too. me and you. maybe we’re nobody. in the outskirts of a small city, you gave me midtown Manhattan, 1922. I felt like someone whose been kissed on both cheeks. enough of the valley. we went for  Sierras. the high of high peaks.

how sorry you are

the rain fell ona slant and i imagined they were all my tears i could not bear to cry. i raised my face to the wind and felt the sheets strike my skin. i stayed outside all morning long with you, reading the paper. we drank coffee without any intention other than to be helpful. lord knows we had once been thoughtless and unkind. you make mistakes. you demand more of people, places and things than you ask of yourselves. now i wanna grab hold and empty life of all its discontents. someone expects an apology outta you, and hunts you down. they may never know how sorry you are. the remainder of life, pushing and pulling those notifications, needled with predicate .coms and .orgs. comradery relocated to social media. if we subscribed it would be too soon… gimme the shelter of the rising sun, full moon. all these things we hope to have eternal, here and gone, then come again… to the faithful, pulled and pushed in the tug-of-war of a life. how sorry you are proclaimed deep space, to the star.

m x memory ending

m by memory -xi (fin)

Yes, being WIRED had coalesced cultures all across the earth, simply the most powerful force in the paradigm shift. What normally took the flash of a couple hundred years in the pan, took only a hundred plus, facilitated by the mighty conveyance of internet connection. Many subcultures rebelled against the seated powers once they became aware (almost instantaneously for common citizens, dependent only on the functionality of a modem in an electric grid) of the relative freedoms other cultures and countries had which they had not and wanted. They got restless under the thumbs of a ruling class they had limited stake in appointing. None of these performances on the dramatic stage of sentient theatre had the innocence of virgin material, there would be no immaculate conception by so and so producer, writer, director, star, or egocentric asshole. There would be no trailblazing invention at all. It became clear that you go with what you have, your essential ingredients, and make something more of it. Make a clearing and let it grow. Any farmer could rule the day. Meanwhile the old controllers and their desperate need for control would be stripped to the wire,  primitive and unworthy looking, and frayed. Easily spotted for removal by the arbitrators of theatre in whatever form they chose to express: tv, movie, made for tv movie, short in some indy festival, drawing on some ipad, page in some kid’s sketchpad. It didn’t matter! Just as the tarnishing of heart and soul, in a rusty mechanical sort of perfectionism, could be caught on an intellectual hook and pulled up and out of the path of vital life,  so could the real, unblemished heart and soul of common decency be ever sparkling for us to see and believe. And so we would have cause to celebrate again. Love was out in the open. Then back to work again.

be the star you are the star you are the star

Let them discover you my sweetness my friend and be the star you are in this solar system holds a premium on light so all you gotta do is shine and you can but do not have to self-promote or boost or market yourself or your shining when all you gotta do is shine bright is be the star you are the star you are the star

ill see you in the light  xxo  K

12.16

I still wished the clock would stop and give us a chance to breathe but time preferred to kick ass, drag our hearts around, and mine kept getting snagged in the pricklies or thumped down some steps or stepped on by a bunch of children runnin’ blind for milk and cookies, kick the can around the parking lot for fun, ran up some stairs and dropped from heights to see if it would bounce or explode, or what, and either way sure was hell of a good time, I swear, when you have my undivided attention, guys just stand there and step on it, suddenly great theatrics, entertainment, and maybe even a bloody mess.

When you care the most, when they have you, you can get heartless. Winter never wanted to be so icy cold. It just had to. Yes I will warm it up with some Charlie Brown Xmas cards and long live snail mail. The post office is my second favorite living museum behind the bookstore. Some millenial stopped me yesterday sayin’ wait, you mean people still do that?I was thinking, wait, did you just say that? Never liked sending cards when it was the thing to do, and now when it’s going out of style I’m intent upon it.

These songs, without words, arise in my head. I gotta put words to them. I was chosen. I was chosen for the in-law unit out back. Where is she? She’s in the shadows, we don’t see her much. She’s in the periphery. She’s part of the goddam scenery, dontcha know? She produces something fierce! You shouldn’t bother her, really, she likes to be left alone and do what she does. It’s something magical, I suppose. But you won’t make much sense of her, she’s not exactly on the planet anymore, everything is dissociated, tangential at best. Maybe her heart got caught in the blender one too many times, ya, it’s a bit of a tragedy. They told her but you have so much to offer just one too many times. Her potential rose up and bricked her in the head. She’s not quite there, but we love her just the same. If she would only let us.

Mercury

M. of the intergalactic planetary alliance

Oh hastening retrograde, dear Mercury!… Shout out to you who placed yourself in harms way of suns ray, so as to protect our dearest milky blue baby earth from the diabolical burn of our dying star… alas the 100,000 spf ring oozed in orbit by atlantis was only the thinnest layer of banana boat generic and apocryphal in its promises! Oh mercury, you selfless spinning wonder! You and your secret services catching the bullets the solar flares, sacrificing your lifeless little self. If we may pay infinitisemal acknowledgment to your heroism, may we tribute you in full view of the planetary alliance eye (in lieu of the usual vacuous ingratitude under the oft overworshipped darkside of the sun).  xxx  K.