Out beyond ideas
of wrong doings and right doings
there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
And she never came.
I went out into the blonde hay field and waited in the sun, my skin baking pleasantly
After awhile I opened the picnic basket
drank the cool white wine
got a headache
and woke up to dream world
and I realized that all the noise out in the city
the hum down the hill of people in bars, trying to fuck one another
is sad and empty and everything you want that you don’t have if and when you have it you won’t want it you’ll just be a part of the hum down the hill the noise in the city thousands of whispers and yells and bellows, all chalk on the black board
I unfriended her on facebook
after she unfriended me in real life
she’s addicted to love
and by love she means elephant gun
take the big king down
pain is a drug
an addiction I’ve never had the misfortune to buy into
I like myself
so instead of the big party tonight
with the same people and a few new people and the chance of meeting someone and yelling and bellowing and whispering, instead of joining the hummers down the hill all trying to fuck one another
I’ll work at building a house of cards
a sand castle on the beach
and if I save one sentient being one minute of unnecessary suffering
I’ll be able to die sad
and wake early, in time to go buy my dog a bunch of local left over dog bones
at the farmers market
my local farmers market
the one that no longer allows dogs
but is happy to take my money.
Who knew it was so easy to be so bitter, and alone, so young?
Soon I will see my black coal heart crushed completely
by the cynicism of selfish wallflowers (with their wedding rings in their pockets)
but, one golden morning, I’ll pull a diamond out of the empty space
where my black coal heart used to be.
A Friday Night Poem.
May 25th, a perfectly cool blue black breezy evening, 2012.
hot on elephant
July’s Full Moon in Capricorn: The Heart wants what it Wants. The 4 Stages of a Good Divorce. How to Love a Woman who Scares You. Our Soulmates are Rarely Who We Expect. Men, Let’s Stop Fooling Ourselves: Size Matters. To the One Who Tried to Break Me. A Letter to my Children: You do not come from a Broken Home. An Open Letter to the Fixers. How your Stored Memories in the Amygdala can lead to PTSD. How My Sister’s Death Transformed my Self-Perception.