photo break: Jenny Holzer, contemporary artist.
1) Gather the things you need, despite
That it seems
That these ingredients are missing in your life.
2) Listen to advice that others give you, on how to cook it just right
It might seem like that’s what we have recipes for
But when when you can’t digest it all
There has to be more to know
Than empty carbs, uncooked cookie dough.
Than throwing it all together in a bowl.
Than Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul.
3) Accept that some things you’ll have to grow yourself.
That portions aren’t measured, they’re felt;
Use as much as you think you’ll need to stop the hunger pains in your heart.
4) Cook with any temperature that’s
Not hot enough for your tongue to burn
But just hot enough to make it hurt.
5) Let it simmer, let it cool,
Let the sides condensate like tears do sometimes
Set time on the clock.
When words are dry, add water and stock
Add enough solace to give flavor to talk.
6) Don’t check the pot every few minutes
Even though you know it’s close
To boiling over.
7) When your belly’s cold
Pull the pot closer, sip it
A little at a time.
Savor the taste that this
Is the only place
You can be right now.
"The single fact of dreaming is already very important. I wish that your dreams will never end and I wish you the fierce desire to realize some of them. I wish you to love what shall be loved and to forget what shall be forgotten. I wish you silences. I wish you bird songs when you wake up and the children’s laughter. I wish you to resist stalemate, indifference, negative virtues of our time. I wish you most of all to be you."
And I stare at the twirling rainbow circle
Waiting for the page to load
Profile of a guy
I’m too tired to remember
That I told myself I would never reminisce over again
But it was 3 am
An abstract time fit for things like these.
And I’m wondering if this browser knows
I’ve made love to this man
Have run through his fingers like sifted sand
Control shifted, delete when it all froze up
It wasn’t enough to click from the beginning.
And I try to bring my small plot of cyberspace to his
My browser already knows its a hit or miss.
But you know,
I’ve read philosophy, loved greatly, held success in my hand
Seen the academic promised land
The gold-painted plastic of a science fair trophy at 14.
But this damned browser suspends me in time like the universe is just one revolving rainbow cursor
The line blurred between who I am and who you were
I’m a bead strung along on an old necklace
At least I once rested myself close to your pulse
Reassured myself that there’s so much in this world for me to behold
So many kinder hands to hold