i'll just be here, watching this, ad infinitum.

taking pictures of poems.

i enjoy surreal word mash-ups and language "distortions" because my desire is to break language of its limitations, its deceptions about the true, mutable and paradoxically constant nature of reality. a thing is limited in naming it. it is hardened into a cage of letters and meaning, and it is my goal to free the things i can by presenting them in odd letters and combinations. shakespeare knew this: the sweetness is the thing, not the letters r-o-s-e. a rose is a flower, and a woman and a kiss and pure consciousness.

when strange and new combinations of words pop into my mind, i feel like an explorer, discovering an ancient ruin, which is at once as old as life itself and new to me. it's the same sensation i've gotten when struck by a beautiful sunset, the clouds and colors arranged in a way i've never seen before, but there it was, all along, waiting to happen. there are no two sunsets that are identical and they happen every day.

the desire to communicate that which cannot be communicated is the ultimate fuckaroo. it's like taking a picture of that beautiful sunset. that photo will never be the sunset itself, it was only for my eyes to see from my exact pinpoint of perception. i've stopped taking pictures of many beautiful moments, instead opting to savor the moment. but then i find myself--sure, only sometimes--wanting to share that moment with someone else, so i write a poem to jailbreak that image from my mind, hoping to give it to someone else.

someone once said i'm cryptic, like it was a bad thing, and it made me wonder if i was. it was a while ago and i haven't been pondering it daily, but nonetheless, it gave me pause at the time. after this somewhat random but highly detailed exploration of my motives and recognition of my obvious delight in discovering new word combinations, i see it as a valiant effort to connect, which also happens to feel like a nice long brain-exhale for me. the universe is cryptic and there are no secrets... just things waiting to be discovered and described and then set free.

the veil, lifted. (and into the mirror: yes, i do.)

this is what the voices say. i just write the shit down.

maybe sometimes in our lives
we should care not at all about any thing
and that means anything
but we should love it all
love being joyful acceptance of what is
without a reaching towards what ought to be
or could be
it's just this silent hum
of molecules bumping up against each other
and laughing cuz it tickles

philosophical bender is on
i'm off to make-out with a forest and merge with a 3,000 year-old tree
i keep thinking perhaps it will share some of its secrets
and it's wondering the same thing of me

planet earth, you are a perfect playground <3

(sadly, i don't know who to give photo credit to)