Untied 2

She hits play.
Her ears are open, her pace steady, the air cold.
It's morning.
She listens, waits for the first note, smiles in anticipation.
She's transported instantaneously to a place inside of her that is submerged with so much grace and so much joy.
It's coming out of all her pores.
She's on the jazz bus, the jazz teleporter, the jazz drug, she doesn't know what it is.
Her spirit is lifted so high and so fast that her heart jumps a little.
The place she goes to in her mind makes her feel safe.
The light is dim, wine is at room temperature.
She hears laughter, plates and trumpet.
The first notes of The Jitterbug Waltz. Seconds later, the other jazz monsters' instruments come in and it all just flies out of the speakers and breaks the ceiling open and lets so much light in. That cymbal beat.
She doesn't need anything else. It's so fucking perfect.
"Fucking" isn't the poetic word she's looking for but it pretty much sums up how truly, spontaneously, insanely perfect jazz makes everything.
It captures and distils life's essence, filtering negativity and stupidity and close-mindedness, forcing her awareness to focus on the present moment, to measure its glory and gorgeousness.
Her happiness is complete, immediate, orgasmic and religious.
She wants to laugh out loud, make love on the grass, dance with a dog, talk for hours, draw freely and eat a vegetarian curry, one with seitan, mushrooms and potatoes.

Haiku 3

I hug the same tree

Hoping it remembers me

From the past season.

Haiku 2

I found a small frog.

The blonde little girl sees it
And takes it from me!

The Absence

His non-presence
Is real.
It takes space
And has his shape.
I'm afraid to step on his invisible toes,
To crumple the trace he left on my reality
By rolling over it in my sleep.

The air moves around his absence.

I hallucinate his touch and his laugh.
My brain actively imitates Morel's invention
And spends long and soft hours
Recreating his smell
And the texture of his hair
And the trillions of cells
That lovingly compose his being.

The machine must be broken.
The sudden deprivation of him
Makes my heart heavy
And the colors paler.

Until we close the distance again
I will wrap myself in his words
And my memories.

Haiku 1

The new books arrived
They smell of an old suitcase
I used to hide in.

The Present

I can feel myself
Moving in time.
I'm different
With each second
Passing.
Not new,
Just different,
Grown.
An instant just vanished
And my old self with it.

Continuous creation
On the canvas of time.
I can change all the colors,
Wear my best thoughts,
Rejoice at the gorgeous idea
Of someone's existence in mine.

One perfect moment
Follows another,
No matter what it contains.
Its ephemeral nature
And uniqueness
Make it perfect.

My now is grateful,
Full and unpolluted.
The past doesn't taste
Anything.
The future doesn't hold
Anything.
Yet.
I will look at it
In the eyes
When it will be
My present.

This is where
Freedom lies.

The Universe

Those giant, slow, moving,
Loving celestial bodies.
Stars forming, others dying,
Their persistent light
Travelling for years
To feed our wishes.

Planets dance
Compassionately.

The cosmos,
In its perfect pace and order
Is overwhelmingly abundant.

It owns the secret
Of time,
And space,
And life,
Whispers it into the darkness
And infinity.

My mind is the size
Of a pebble.
It can not seize
The vastness and
Deepness,
Immensity and
Eternity
Of the Universe.

It only has the intuition
Of its beauty
And majesty.

I try to expand
My consciousness of it,
Step back enough
To bring my arms around it
And embrace it,
Contain it.
I try hard
And fail.

It is beyond
My human imagination
That I thought limitless.

So I just
Accept my littleness,
And in that humbleness
And awe
Feel vast,
Feel loved,

And remember
I am made of stardust.

Untied 1

I walk on loud twigs
In a forest
I think I remember.

A sad moon
Shines on a horse
I used to own.

Underwater foxes
Dance in silence.

I wear my velvet soul
Stained with colors
I have never seen before.

I have dinner with
Five hundred ants.
They cook,
I bring vinegar.

Moss is on fire.
I dig a hole,
Burry my necklace.

The moth and the grass snake
Conspire against me.

I step back.