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woman king

i found you today once again. happened to glance up and sussed you out from a sea of stars, because it was the one that was half glowing, flickering in flickering out, burnt, drained, tired and alone. i cannot quite discern the fascination aside from the obvious connection to him. and the injustice i did you in ignorance.

i have a gaggle of myths in my pocket - and every single one revolves around a woman, alone.

they are pasted thickly on my walls - silver haired sculptors in forests of their own making, and buns to keep away the catechin - two dimensional lovers staring back and coats of plaster areolae. elizabeth and a beer on my front stoop.

the woman king with a thousand heads.

there is a ranch with three divas, long grass, sunflowers and no partner to be found. from what i understand, you are desperately lonely and barely surviving. and still i envy you the peace and inner strength of a life entirely of your own making - no answering to, no disappointment, and the opportunity to see so clearly the way the moon calls back at you.

i suppose i can feel your hole in me. this overwhelming that both overjoys and sucks dry.

i fool myself into thinking i could escape it in a more empty house. enough to miss what the current quiet has offered me. enough to take for granted the fullness of it.

i wish that i could at least tell you i am sorry. though it would change nothing and the conflict was not my own - you are still haunting me.

__

i heard the Dalai Lama speak in the morning. scattered between barely discernable english and exchanges with a translator was the most infectious laughter that, an entire audience who surely could not quite understand the gist of the joke, were even yet swept up into. and so was i.

where can i get that?

7:50 p.m. - 2007-09-25
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