super fragile

super fragile composed of vapors

my world collapsed and formed into a star. the star was super fragile and made of vapors but i didn’t care. there was little i could do about it. i infused the core with kindness and developed a fuck you solution for any intrusion. the moon of the earth changed by its proximity to the sun. i lived out there, too, and went through many moods. as one replaced the other, life got pretty interesting. we did not need to get along, you and i, but when we did we could walk and talk again, like friends. this was nice and i needed to be alone again, super fragile, composed of vapors.

i is for ism

There were years gone by questioning nothing. Not even all the dirty ugly predicated isms in plain sight.

Kids who grow up in any kinda consistent environment, no matter the level of dysfunction, ascribe their acceptance upon it. As did i.

Then came barreling upon me, an expansiveness i had never known. I wanted to stay tight. Small. To know your name when i saw you in the streets. For you to know mine.

To keep our hard earned reps.
Our shared histories.

The disturbance in my atmosphere saw me smaller, lesser known, more fearful, lesser understood anymore.

I could hide in the laundry bed of a thousand other passerbys. No one but my mom might miss me.

I might not even miss me, myself.

For who was i formed out of icy isms in a blind microcosmic state of purified disaster?

We are

We are undergoing cosmic shock and evolution…We are learning how to breathe again… We are justifiably hungry as we slowly spin towards our destiny of changes…

We are.

Make no mistake. You can sit in front of the television and still undergo radical shifts of consciousness. You can be all alone and inextricably part of this thing.

You can blow yourself away. Still you are with us. In little pieces. Reflecting light from the inside out. Getting to work, cell by cell, in the grande orchestral movement.

Stop talking.
Keep talking.
Does not matter.
Lock the door.
Open your heart.
Say no say yes.

We matter. We are matter. We subsist on supernovas. We lunch in Andromedas cool atmospheric halls.

Hendrix is there teaching constellations bold ill-advised new alignment. Hemingway is fishing in a black hole. Virginia Woolf is walking the frozen quiet woods of Saturn’s ring, with our mothers mother’s mother.

Nothing is ever lost.
Need not fear the change.
All we are, so shall remain.

In mutual collective admiration society…In reckless prolific creative propriety… In dreamstate loving perpetuity…

And in reality.