omnia mutantur, nihil interit.


sitting alone in a coffee shop. lady day serenading the room. and it scares me how much i love you.

"when the [heart's] impulses move us, none of us can stop their sudden promptings from easily breaking out, and even more easily overflowing into words which are the ever-ready indications of the heart's emotions: as it is written, 'a man's words are spoken from the overflowing of the heart.' i will therefore hold my hand from writing words which i cannot restrain my tongue from speaking; would that a grieving heart would be as ready to obey as a writer's hand!"

wavering down a patch of unpaved ground,
collecting earth & secrets all over my body--
mama, i must remember to trust the dirt
because, mama, i sure know it doesn't forget.

watch carefully. do not blink. i am going to show you something. this is a resurrection. equally an execution as much as a metamorphosis. your skin is hot, but your veins are cold. throw away all maps. get lost. transcend. unveiled mysteries are waiting. whispering. wanting. lift the shutters. this is a time of lightness more blinding than shadowy living.

breath in. can't breath out. hold it until my temples throb hold it until my own chest clutches itself cages itself hold it until my eyes form tunnels swathing all to black hold it until my thoughts cease hold it until my heart stops. for a moment. exhale. exhale. go to sleep.

i woke around 4 a.m. and the first thought that passed through my cortex was an obscure string of five words: "a cluster of vulcan ennui."
i didn't know how to make much sense of it or why it came to me, so i wrote it down and figured i'd revisit after a more thorough rest. my dream afterwards was a vision of my hair sprinkled with a delicate glittter of fire which slowly spread to everything surrounding me. that's all that happened. and when i woke again, i returned to the words. trying to dissect their meaning. the only one i did not know  definition wise was "vulcan" which is apparently the ancient roman god of fire. and as far as astronomy is concerned it's "a hypothetical planet nearest the sun whose existence was erroneously postulated to account for perturbations in mercury's orbit."
anyways, i have yet to make much sense of it. but i always find it so uncanny when these random thought strings flow into me. one of the last one's i remember was a few months ago while i was brushing my teeth stated "the king of chernobyl was four feet tall." i actually did not know what chernobyl was either, and tried to look it up as "trenoble" offering no results. but later i was speaking to my friend about this strange sentence that came to me because i thought it sounded like the start to a silly poem or something and it was absolutely baffling. but another guy heard me and chimed in with a curious interest. apparently he studied the chernobyl nuclear disaster a lot and told me all about it, including the correct spelling. it gripped me for a while. i'm always mesmerized by these happenstance thought occurrences, and figured i'd write about it since i've been up since seven and have nothing better to do in my spiraling dreary state.

so beautiful that i must weep. not by sadness or tragedy, but by a purity. living in the present of anticipatory future. drinking coffee from a large cup, wrapped in a cocoon of reverie. the pulse beating faster. an indescribable melody. anticipatory future. astonishment pulls in soundlessly.

last night's thunder rolling down my marrow. remembering her body electric blue. soft flashes. drawing maps. i'm so consumed. and not even by dreaming, as so often i have. but purely by what is. i've not been writing as often as i used to. which i cannot correctly ascertain as to why. perhaps my present doesn't necessitate the embellishing my past has. i am at a peak. and it is she who is my holy mountain.

so much has happened. i finished my junior year. my girlfriend met my parents. i won second place in a film festival (which was juried by the film curator at the mfah). i'm in the process of applying to universities so that i may transfer. got a potential job offer at one of my favorite thrift stores for the summer. and that is simply to mention the most recent. i haven't even written. i'm so ashamed. because i know my memory evaporates just as easily as these leftover puddles scattered along our southern streets in may. i understand more clearly when i write. even if it's an incoherent flow of mind mush. i must begin again. before too much is left unknown, like a beautiful dream.