OurLadyJ

trains come so lovely

this happened to me once

not on the street,

but out of a window

onto a beat. fully frozen in the middle of france

a place not present,

once deserted by the pass of engines

engineering their own line

into a muddle- my own muddle,

self-created. passed up. teased and ready to release…

…

and now, i pretend that survival makes me deep.

i spoke with my bro online 3 days ago

ny:      hey. how r u

iraq:    fine. u

ny:      good. how’s the war

iraq:    it’s goin.

ny:      i’m goin to a protest sat in ny. hope u don’t mind.

iraq:    do what u believe in.

ny:      thank u. i will. u too.

iraq:    i do.

i imagine and am filled with fear.

i’m legal!

ok. so maybe i edited the year of my birth, but the “SEX: F” is real!

make love. fuck war.

this pic, from rosie’s blog

omg.

what a life condi has chosen.

creating beauty

is what it’s all about

last night, i had a dream

Oh, the rapid freedom a man with generous numbers brings. She thought.
This would increase her sanity.
The ability to waltz from one world to the next, saving children from their shabby parents and rewriting the Christian text; she thought this would increase her humanity.

And as she floated through the space mobile hotels, the grim reaping laps of fine threaded pants and the ubiquitous labor of maintaining an establishment, she met a man with a relentless pull, so alluring that she made out the word ‘shiva’ on his spine, written in blue light.

Come to the other side, the side that doesn’t collect mortals and juveniles and religion and men. Come where murder runs as free as ecstasy and pain, where sensuality is the mind-set of simple hello’s and complicated departures. Come taste my sex and my breath and my song. Come lose everything you’ve never had.

So she agreed, letting out a cry which continued the unbirth (of many things… psychedelic displeasures, space mobile hotels, fine threaded laps, etc, etc, etc).

surprise

my co-worker is going to PA this weekend

and i mentioned that i’m going this winter if my brother comes home from iraq
it slipped out of my mouth

if. if.
apparently, my faith is gone
expecting nothing

i live frugally on surprise

as alice walker once instructed me to do.
but i worry that he feels this
over there, as he tires from walking around

in 110 degree heat, with pounds of metal strapped to him

my lack of faith

(not hope, but faith)

i’m focusing and focusing

bring him home

but prayer is for people who are afraid, lazy, crazy to do

so i scream at every monger

who dares to defend the war in my presence

i wind myself into a ball of fire

powerful, and alive

until i break.

praying during weaker moments.

my nature

is to live on surprise