Invisible Beauty


I’m looking for my angel. She’s invisible.

Until the exact right moment in time. That precious tick…

She will be the extra gust of wind in my sails

She will be my companion, my confidant, my muse.

We will talk about politics and current events and never get upset over it.

We will explore the world together. One day.

We will only have eyes for each other

We will build a home on our principles

We will laugh, cry, dance, fuck, and yes, argue.

But it’s okay. We love someone because we let them hurt us.

Pain is worth it if God forbid…

I hope love is still real




Endless nights…Too short

A different kind of chase ensues

Can’t stop the rain

Warmth enough to share

Mined deep within


I forgot what green meant

To you

Only a tickled fantasy?

Will there be time

To grow this right


You can fall but be Graceful

The Forgotten stirs

Too our surprised delight

We’ll let things be themselves


Permission to breathe

Scattered wonder collected

In the dam

 You help me take it all in


I don’t know how but

It’s okay

It always was

My favorite thing


Half-hidden pearls

What can I do

Your eyes fix me

To my surroundings


A painted man in a painted place

It’s only fair

Doesn’t matter if they don’t see it

We feel it

Quiet harmony


I was more interested in flesh and she was more interested in chemicals. Trying to remember what a romantic connection feels like–or did I ever know? Is it unreasonable to expect you to shut the hell up and scream while I fuck you in my thoughts? This is when my audience gets uncomfortable with the sexuality–goddamned Puritans. Pervert. I’ve heard it’s an evolutionary and psychological fact that people think about sex multiple times each minute–which is clearly more some minutes than others (God I love when she leans over the counter like that). There are 1,440 minutes in a day. Imagine the shape we’d be in as a species if we had safe sex that often! Gyms would go out of business.

I’ve starved my artistic nature. How else do you make meaning out of this mess we call life? By worrying about the how’s and the what’s? Why is always the more interesting question. Ethics and politics. Engrossing and putrid. It’s important to get yourself into emotionally healthy habits. Everyone focuses on physical health, but all forms of health are woven together, if one end of the web breaks, the whole thing is flailing in the wind.

Fear itself is the enemy of rational thought and also of one’s (or the communal) pursuit of happiness.This is hard to read–chaotic he was talking about sex and now he’s talking about health–real stream-of-consciousness crap, I can’t  do it anymore. Do I have a point? Will I tell you what it is? Are you entitled to it? He needs ADHD medication, poor bastard. Well fuck you. I don’t need your approval. This is art goddamnit. Not to say I don’t appreciate your feedback… As if I want to sell my heart and soul to earn a dying! The crazy part is, I love you all. I’m an atheist, yet I do the equivalent of praying each day, and wish all living creatures well, be they friend or foe. Foes can be allies at times. I think we should all try a hell of a lot harder to love each other than we do. Call me a hippy, but then look at Syria and tell me I’m wrong and I’ll tell you to do something vulgar. At any rate, have a great fuckin day.

The Con


Scam (Photo credit: mezzoblue)

There are plenty of good, genuine people in the world. Yet there are also those who wish to fool others for personal gain. For instance in the headlines today, there was apparently an interpreter for the deaf at a ceremony for Nelson Mandela (a great man, may he rest in peace) who didn’t know sign language and just wanted some limelight. A New York woman supposedly faked cancer to support a dope habit.

It’s sad, but this idea isn’t anything new or very rare, just ask Flannery O’ Connor. However perhaps the best con-artist of them all is reading this post. That’s right, who holds more of our confidence than ourselves? Personally, I’ve convinced myself of lies that I doubt I would ever let anyone else convince me of. Lies such as, ‘You can’t do that. You’re not good or smart, or strong enough.’ And, as long as I believe it, it’s true.

A wise friend of mine used to say, “Argue for your limitations, and they’re yours.” Today, expect more of yourself. Don’t give in so easily. You can improve your lifestyle and breathe easier with the choices you make. Today argue for your potential. Namaste.

Take a Moment

Boulder Falls

Blue thunder crashes down onto and then splashes off the mossy sandstone, pulverizing the riverbed into submissive sand. Refreshing mist greets the bystander’s face. The spruces, pines, and firs bask in the crisp autumn sunlight. A nearly leafless aspen is a spinal cord with nerves reaching out in all directions to feel the shadow suffocate the valley. A lone pine stands proudly atop the falls as though it’s modeling the latest needles from the Ponderosa line. And it all matches her perfectly. Her skin is gentle and brown like the sand we stand on. Her eyes are reminiscent of of the pines’ bark, a rich almond. The mountainside is tall and noble as she is. Her smile is as hypnotizing as the rushing waterfall. She picks me a flower. I accept it graciously and embrace her. We hold hands and smile at each other. We enjoy the scenery and the moment and ask some strangers to take a photo of us. Young love preserved in film, a sweet memory. When things are tough, we must think of times like this, and remember how calm and pleasant life can be.

The Bambi

Bambi II

Image via Wikipedia

She puts food in my face while I’m eating something else. She makes me massage her feet all the time. She loses it if I say anything bad about her Guess jacket. She says, “Up!” Impatiently while we’re lying in bed so she can burrow under my arm and lay on my shoulder. She takes my phone, my car, my laptop, my money, and denies it vehemently. She makes me help her with her homework. She cleans my ears with her pinky nails. She gets furious when she gets in a fight with her friends and I don’t get involved on her behalf. I have to ask her permission before I do just about anuything. She loves purple, monkeys, giraffes, nice clothes, hummos with oil, and Macy’s. She hates Americans, Blondes, onions, Jews, Christians, Muslims, and irritable people.  She calls the shots. She’s taller than me and talks like a 3 year old, a 13 year old, a 30 year old at times. She fights with me everyday. She’s the biggest miracle in my life. She’s my wife, my best friend, future mother of my children, the one who sticks with me through it all, my Bambi.