what i do not know

i find myself with a paper thin heart today. How we fool ourselves to make things more bearable. yesterday i sat in the chair and i understood, how much i did not care for myself. How much events since my early years and a lot them in between has led me to believe that i had nothing worth keeping, easily disregarded. that on my side it was never greener.

i wrote about peeling the layers, they hurt. But nothing is ugly- yet i can't see myself in the looking glass- to afraid that i will understand what others don't see.

stone

i want to tell you everything. how inside she turned to stone, how violins scare her and pianos too. she wants to tell you that the river of tears is salted and she can't move on.
she floats.

she wants to tell inside she has turned to stone yet the day it happened she was not prepared and now she remains
stuck in tthat moment...

move along

sometimes i look around and wonder how many people wish for things that are easy to get, how we blind ourselves in believing that it is not possible I have always believed in the possibilities, layers and layers of possibilities. both my mum and my father had instilled this in me, yet somehow i question all that they gave up on.

Today while driving a cars bumper sticker read " i am boldly going nowhere" it scared me, yet i was curious was the driver saying i am happy here or was the driver disappointed. In my own life i do not know what i would answer except to say i hope i just don't believe in the possibilities but conquer them as well...

somtimes i lay on my bed and stretch as if i am trying to reach for something but there is nothing there except the wall of my imagination. Have i reached it i wonder. sometimes i find myself humming at tune, reliving a moment and feeling a pinch in my heart but when i think about it, it does not come from something i experienced but something i imagined.

to bright to be quiet

i am here by a window everything is quiet except for the sun. It has pushed the curtain open and has made my eyes water. I love the natural light i do, but today it is loud, too loud and it is inviting me to come out, when i can not. even sophie's bark can not drown it out, but together they are creating havoc in my head. I want to find a dark quiet space, quiet like grace, dark like grace.

aging

we are sitting at the cafe, his nose in and out of the paper.i
fingers play over the keyboard of my laptop half parousing the internet.

he: what are you thinking about?

me: nothing and you

he: nothing

me;(thinking to myself) i was thinking how the sunlight hits his eyebrow and his blue eyes shine, how the last fifteen years i have watched him grow into this handsome man. how is grey is camouflaged with his blond and it's beautiful and how the lines of his face has traced his kindness, is story how i love him now more than ever..

he: (interrupts my thoughts) well i was thinking about that girl over there how she reminds me of you when we met

and now i feel a string from my heart break as if it was a violin .

seeing

i have fallen in love with looking out this window. i tell it many things without speaking a word.at times it disagrees with me. but today it gave into me.

dick chenney

dick chenney "frankly" i think you should shut up

how dare you speak about the economy and the government trying to control private companies- you erased the word private, you privatized a war..you were good at it. tell me does blood pour out of your shower head or do you bathe in mothers milk. do you have little plastic soldiers all over your house and knock them down when your steak is over cooked and not bloody like you like it.

the museum

waiting in line at the cafe, i place my order the man behind me does the same his voice so familiar i can't help but turn around. I i have seen him before but i do not know him, i turn back around and feel him lean towards me as he whispers "meet me at museum, risd museum" I don't acknowledge thinking that he must not be talking to me. I get my drink when i look about he is gone. I walk to my car and notice a note ..please meet me. I think how crazy this is and how i absolutely will not. I start driving towards town and there is a detour that brings right in front of the museum. i shake my head in disbelief and whisper no, no. but somehow i am parking.

as i walk into the lobby he is there, if he is surprised he doesn't show it. I don't say anything, somehow i feel like i am in my teens. we go up the elevator the door open's and we walk into the exhibition. he tries to speak but somehow my thin voice says " please can we just look around in silence" i am awkwardly confident but not really sure. I get lost in photographs, artifacts, so lost i forget he is there-no that is not true i am aware, he is standing a foot away yet i can feel his weight on me. we go into my favorite room full of impressionist paintings. i stare at the colors and the people on the canvases i almost hear them. I notice he is not looking at them in fact he had not really looked at anything, he stares at me " why aren't you looking at the art" he replies " i am" i want to laugh-no i want to tell him that those are wasted words that i had fallen for such words before, used by bald hairy italian men- common words, common men. instead i say every museum has bad art. I excuse myself to the ladies room, i wash my hands and face the water is cold. drying now i look in the mirror i recognize her. her wrinkles start to fade her skin becomes pale and lips the color of early raspberries. i look straight at her, i tell her no never again as i walk through the doors till i find myself outside walking to fast to call it a walk i find my car and my salvation.

his kindness

i sit here in the car as he drives through the mountains. his kindness makes me want to cry. he good to me. i want to stretch my arms towards him but some how my body has sunk deep into my chair, my eyes are heavy and my voice to thin to hear.

we are at the theater now, i am sitting in my chair. his kindness makes me want to cry, he is very good to me. i want to tell him
but i remain quiet.

i am tired, to tired to tell myself that he is to good for me, instead i want to believe i deserve this type of love. his kindness a blanket of my youth i never had, he shelters me from a storm within.

three

i am three people, the person i once was, the person i am and the person i am working hard to be. sometimes they meet, they revisit their story with each other. they cry, they laugh and at times they run and hide. the person i once was often runs back closing her eyes tightly. the person i am finds herself standing still requiring more patience then she is capable of giving. the person i am trying hard to be well i hardly see her clearly..she comes and goes and often has light around her so bright i look away.

i am three people they share common threads all so desperately trying to be heard one so wanting to be forgotten.

the window

every morning after staying still i turn my body towards the window across the loft. my cheek layes on the pillow as i stare through it. it frames the tree perfectly and the sun loves it. i get lost in it, i am not sure how much time i spend there each morning but i know it makes me happy to begin my day this way. soon it will bud, then leaves will follow, will it block the light, will i see through it. will i be here long enough..

it does not matter, right now i just don't want to close my eyes or move in anyway...

happiness arrived

in the form of the wind it whispered in my ear
" i have plans for you" i said yes, please. i sat at the steps
and listened to it all night tell me of my great adventure to
come. excited i immediately started packing for it afraid it would change it's
mind..i had ingnored it once before and the price was great.

now i stand in the middle of a place i will not return to, i am happy, no i am alive,
i am ready.

the rain

this place is so different. i lay so close to the window i could hear the rain clearly it feels like i should be getting wet. i listen to it some more and i am jealous of it. the rain has such freedom, it travels all around, it's journey never ends.

i told him i think i have accidentally erased myself, he says i am mistaken i am shedding layers, i say i don't like it, he asks why and all i want to say- no shout is stop it, please stop it. he looks at me and i ask him if he is bored of all of this, he says no and asks why i say such things i answer i am bored of it, of me. i tell him i have nothing to give. he says you are getting used to this that is all and i now tell him enough, enough.

my hand is on the window now, the rain taunting me, i want to touch it put my hand through this glass because opening it will take too long

sing

he walked down the staircase and asked her what she was doing up she said that she had dreamt of a song and that she was trying to sing it. "can i listen" he asked she said that she was still trying to piece it together. trying she said " i heard it before"she said" yes you said you heard it in your dream" no before that she responded as she ran to her note book " yes here it is, it is from
the documentary man on a wire"

"..her large green eyes embraced me ..and when we held each other it was as if we were children planning our next bout of mischievous..."

why do you look so sad " it is silly i know but i always thought that one day i would wake up and have the ability to sing" you make others want to sing he said, they both started laughing as he held her hand and walked her up the stairs as they tucked each other in he whispered in her ear" your large green eyes embrace me"

what i learned in bed

my eyes open and i look around trying to stay still so that i can have a few minutes for myself. somehow overnight my bed has doubled in size, yet the 100 pound white beast has no idea since my legs are pinned underneath her. the air in the room is different, the sun trying to push the blinds open. i start to think about last night and how i tried to get out of going to the play till k. held my hands and said " but honey you love the theater" he is right. i sat there listening to lines like " my life is in you" and " life is not printed on a dollar bill" i cried at the theater, the play moving. i felt alive. i look around the room again trying slowly to stretch without stirring the dogs. I think about the changes, the deep shedding that has taken place these last few weeks. I think about how i was afraid to stop loving k. and now i know that is impossible but fear that he will one-day stop loving me. the dogs notice me and come close to me my face gets licked by grace and sophie rest her body so close to mine. now i think about how i was afraid that my world had become to small always fighting to have no boundaries but somehow the last few months i made it small, so small that i had padded the walls so that nothing could hurt me, betray me, lie or make false promises to the point where i had walked away from everything i loved and that loved me except k and the girls. the last week i knew that i was starting to remove the padding and maybe put a few windows...this morning i felt the air touch the exposed skin.

had a little to much

IT IS MURDER mrs Palin what you call
hunting. Killing wolves with arial planes, letting them run to pure exhaustion then you gun them down?
a stipend reward for each pair of wolf paws- in the rest of the world mrs palin will call that poaching! and who pays for that the government.. what?

"i don't eat veal" well do you eat beef hotdogs because that is a small calf sold and slaughtered and two days old for fifty dollars are less.

cheese and other dairy products are not so cruel.. really? cows can not even go to the bathroom in peace they get an electric shock so they step backwards and poo in a specific place..

i was listening to i guess the view on the radio.. could not breath at how cruel the world can be who are these women do they really represent all the woman out there

there is ethical ways to do things get informed.

and what about the water bottle- really please let's try harder!

lying in the snow

i could feel the cold through the glass as i sit at the cafe
and type. I am all over the place trying to find inspiration.
there is plenty out there, but i am a little lost as of late.

sometimes i am afraid that feeling so much made me loose the ability
to feel.

perhaps if i layed in the snow out there, the cold and wet of it might wake some of my senses, then perhaps the people that would stare out the window and point at me would trigger humalation or maybe i would just think to myself yup thats me lying in the snow like a seven year old. whispers of what is she doing, is she okay.. would be heard. as i would stand and walk back to the table where my laptop rest and mocha awaits, i would stare and no one..and simply proceed as usually. just thinking of it makes me feel free and different.

i need the winter and the snow to stay for a while longer...

stay a while longer

the lights went on

early this morning around five am i was driving home when i approached a small over pass to
my exit. as i looked to my right i could see a sea of school buses(hundreds) , i had noticed them before. as i prepared to take a second look all the lights on the buses turned on..it was surreal and beautiful truth be told it was magical...like a little gift to my eyes. nothing beautiful about big orange buses( never cared for the school bus i had a weak stomach).. i love when hard edges, industrial environments become beautifully soft.

charade

i swallow my words and feel the lump in my throat till my heart aches just to spare you from pain. i drive out of the way so that you will not be caught like a deer in the headlights. i bury my pride so that you can roar like a lion, a lying lion.

i sit in his chair and tell him i want you to hurt, why do i want you to hurt i ask. he responds by saying you don't, so i say i want him to feel and he says he is incapable of feeling..i say not good enough. I say i am tired of him, tired of talking about him. he tells me about all the women who sit in this chair who have a someone like you. that you are nothing special, have nothing to offer just in ability to take, he is mediocre at best, a charade of a man.

i say i don't want to talk about him, i ask, do i hate him, he says you are angry, i say i don't want to be angry he says you have the right to be..

brick

i stare at all the bricks they form a wall
it feels as if i have been working on it my whole
life. I am scared sometimes that it will never end.
and scared it will come to an end...no not really.
i take the needle that is the present put the thread that is
the future and i mend the tears from the past.
my heart only knew bursting with joy, never have i known this splitting
of the seems. never would i want to again.

i am scared today, a little for the wall cast a familiar shadow
yet i hear others talk about the sun. i start again brick soaked
with the moisture of my hand. which is the wall and which is the pile...

snow

You love it don't you
yes very much. what do you love about it
everything
like what
i like it is white and clean, i like how it is cold and fresh, how it's bright, the way my cheeks feel
i like the memories i associate with it
like what
you sure ask a lot of questions
like what
snow angels with my brother, six feet high walls, childhood igloos, skating on the lake, sledding with friends on new years, winter spent in vermont with dogs...
you are quiet did you not like my list
no i did
is there a but
well i did not give you any of these
why should you give me any, i am capable of it myself
well what i mean i am in none of the those
what, maybe not in this list your not but in the list there is me
the me that led me to you, that fell in love with you, besides are we moving to a tropical country
no why
then there will be many snow falls my love i promised you, come here
why cause i want to make a memory.......
that's cold yes..
but don't you love it
i love you in it...

white horse

he lifted my chin with his hand and said i have not seen you smile in months. I protested and said that is not true i am always smiling...you know what i mean. No, no i don't. then he asked if i would like to dance, but no one is dancing i said, when did you care i am not sure i answered, i am not sure. he walked away...

I wanted to tell him everything. how i had dreamt of a white horse and had let it drink every once of my passion, till it left me for dead. that i did'nt dream anymore.

i could hear his footsteps come towards me his hand on my chin again he lifts it till my eyes met his, i try to stare away but just then he says.. i am not without fault in this.. i want to say why did you let it happen, why did you not fight for me, but instead i say what i know to be true, you could not have stopped me for i had fallen so deep into my dream..that even within my dream i had dreamt..

left them

The other day while sitting in a cafe my husband pointed to a story in the newspaper and asked me if i had hear about it, i said no so he proceeded to begin within the first sentence i asked him to stop and even though we where in a public place i immediately started to cry. I was angry at him and asked him why he thought i would want to hear about that..

I used to listen to the news(never local), read the new york times and visit my independent media sites, i was on top of things- i had to be my clients expected it from me. But it has been at-least year now, that i barely have the stomach for anything but a comedy at the theater...

i am not naive about what is going on out there i do get informed. But nothing prepared me for the story that my husband had begun to tell and i have not been able to get it out of my mind, i t has profoundly altered my thoughts. as I stated before i had my husband stop telling me of the story just a second after he began, i do not know the ages, race, state.. in-fact nothing really except the following i must warn you i have decided to write this in my blog because of personal need..but you might not want to read the next paragraph or two.

On christmas day a father was driving his daughter and son to there mothers house in the bitter cold when his car got stuck in a snow drift. He told his kids that they should begin walking the ten miles remaining to there mothers house, the daughter or more so the way i play it in my head the sister died along the way and the brother was severely damaged. the father got out the snow drift and proceed to go back to his house when he received a call from the mother asking where the children were. that is the extent of what i know. I can not stop seeing the brother and sister walk this mountains highway stretch.. what was it like, what did they say to each other, did he try did she try.........
I tried to make peace with all of this, but what right do i have. I completely lost, i want to help them, hold them. i want keep them safe, hold there hand or perhaps lay with her and show her that she was not alone but she was, he was..........

i can not stop thinking about them....did she find something to hold onto in her mind..before her eyes closed...oh god who are you and why would you allow this...

he calls you love

she. has he always called you love

i. no just recently

she. if you do not mind me saying it, but there seems to be anger behind it

i. oh, i suppose there is

i. (is quiet)

she. i' am sorry have i upset you.

i. no, no i am glad of your honesty

i. (thinking) he asked me what i missed most of the affair
and i said "he used to call me love" perhaps it is his way of
working through it, i am glad for it, yes i think i am.. for now
every-time he says it i cringe and that will surely erase any longing to
hear it spoken by anyone......

she. but i have upset you

i. no not all, in fact i am glad of it, it has helped me
shall we go get something sweet...

violin

i sit and listen to the violin, one note sends me back in time
my whole body blushes. i turn my gaze to the ground trying
not to let my secret show. the power of its chord sends shivers
to all those places we lingered. I know now i do not need
to be loved but to love him perfectly.

the month i love

it is finally here a new beginning, or a new chapter, perhaps a new book. January is my favorite month, last year i wish january never came for i lost jacob january first. This is a new year, a new january and it has been wonderful so far.

breathing

my head layed on his chest, i could hear him breath no i felt it. he breathes then i, then him, then i, then him
i hold my breath now so i can catch up to his, i let go ..... now one breath, one single movement, johny playing in the background
and us there on the couch, not his place , not mine but our moment, a moment like no other where innocence still existed, i miss the person i was there in the space, my head against his chest our stillness moving moutains, our stillness stiring life deep within me...

why are you holding on

let go, don't travel down the rivers of my veins and
don't stay in my heart it is not safe there, broken and condemned
it can fall at anytime.

you are not him

i saw you there, dressed like him in your long black coat and hat, i tried not to look and for a moment or two it worked. but when i turned again i saw, it was you. i wanted to cross the street, i wanted to disappear so i started walking fast thinking how can this be. when i said goodbye i thought it meant you would seize to exist i believed it, naive of me i know, but wasn't i all along. all i could think about as i rushed through the darkened city streets, please, please, i don't want to hear your voice i don't want you to look at me and i at you ..now i realized i was running and all the night lights where playing with me. then i heard it, my name my heart ached instantly as feet stopped, my body begged for mercy. i knew you were right there behind me and tears began to fall, then your hand touched my back as i turned around- it wasn't you, him was not you i stood there with tears among the traffic lights, cars and watched my heart fall to the sidewalk floor..all of it, to much...

peaches

i lie in bed restless thinking why have i spent all these nights awake and what am i meant to do with all this extra time. i ask myself these questions every once and a while but the answers never come. tonight i lay here and odd things enter my head like peaches, library sinks, i think about lies and oil changes, i think of bald heads and hairy backs, i think about cowards then i wonder how dare these thoughts waste my time. then my lips part as i say out-loud " i should have checked if he had a heart beat"....and for some reason this brings me peace and just like that all those thoughts disappear and i can hear the rain again it has been falling steady since midnight and i now know that the rain will not turn to snow like promised, so i pull the blankets closer to me as i listen to it fall hoping that somehow my eyes will begin to close and i will sleep...

the car

i am staring out the window of the car, barely any leaves left on the trees yet the sun shines bright i am following it with my eyes. he is looking at me while he drives and i try not to think about it. he says my name and i like how it sounds but i keep looking out the window. i want to tell him to stop the car, get out and hold me but i don't. he is staring at me i could feel it I want to say stop but i don't because that is a beginning of a dangerous conversation, then i think of you and i hate it and makes me angry that you have somehow entered my thoughts and this car. i stare hard out the window now and there is boys playing football and i want to tell them to be better than their highest expectations... he says my name again and now i just want this car to stop and i want to be on the outside of it but all i could say is 'i hope it snows'...he says you look like snow. i can't respond. he is quiet now as the car begins to slow then stop. we are here now but i don't want to get out and somehow i have forgotten how to breathe but i can't stay so i step out and as i do my voice begins to crack and i don't stare back at him-as i say, can you hold me but he does'nt hear me and he says can you say it again please but i can't .....

skin

lately i have been giving some thought to my skin, when i felt it and when i was conscious of it. I think when i was young if i would scrape it then i knew it was there. then i started to think about when i felt good in it, when it felt alive and i realized it was when in the company of someone else. i remembered my rosy cheeks and conciseness of the skin i was in, i remembered the paleness of it that would take a rosy glow once i had experienced intimacy our genuine happiness, laughter and newness.

I realized that how the skin reacted to those things and how good it felt and how youthful it made me feel. Later i started to think why does it take love or passion? i know i have experienced it after a dip in the ocean, or a facial or a great hike but nothing like the makeover of being in love or experiencing love. I look at myself lately and i see non of it..no sign of love or youthfulness then i wonder before you came was it there this feeling of fitting in to ones skin? I want to answer yes, because i was independent, i ate well i took care of my skin stayed out the sun..and knew i looked young but did i feel it..was i conscious of it...and if it is'nt possible to achieve without a grand passion.. and will these new lines disappear if love finds me again..will i run out of the house with rosy cheeks, will someone at the cafe say you look radiant,, will i catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and like what i see, will i stretch out on to the bed and feel every morsel of skin. i ask myself does the skin sleep till passion fills every crevasse...

no not the same

you asked if my smile was the same
and if my hair was still long
a second later you asked if my eyes still sparkled
and if my skin was still rosey and pale...

you asked me why i as was so quiet, you said hello
hello in the receiver as if the line got diconnected

disconnected, yes.

those things no longer apply to me, perhaps the long hair..
but i still drink mochas, read russian litterature, i have two dogs but there not the same ones, i know longer practice, i cry when i am happy and now i cry when i am sad and sometimes when i am mad and i am all those things a lot of the time.

a new day

i had this dream that something like this could happen, but somehow i thought it was also possible to loose faith, that the light could go out yet we would be forced to live in some uncomfortable darkness..not expecting change, not having the right or courage to ask for it..but then it happened that thing we call justice, purpose , trust .... he did it ..you did it, they did it
and i sat here whispering yes we did..and now he will and we will help.

time for change

waiting for the biggest change of all. I want to speak to you and let you know that tomorrow we have the power to profoundly change the course of the missile that bush launched 8 long years ago. although being a canadian living in the us, i do not have the right to vote( i would like to get into that but i won't) I will be working at the civic center from dawn till night, the civic center is the place where those who have not registered can register and vote on the same day. I wish i could speak to every single person coming into that building specially the ones that don't believe in fundamental change, those who are stuck in generational voting based on what there parents church and peers have always done, because this is not there fight- this is not their vote it is yours. Your vote should be based on what? on facts and what you have experience in the last 8 years. I could list some of those we have in common such has gas, prices, the cost of groceries at your local supermarket, the changes taking place at your work place, a war that you seem to ignore yet takes money right out of your children's education not to mention has killed your neighbors children perhaps even yours... it is the tension and home that has caused stress in your marriage, the summer vacation that had to be tweaked, the sport you did 'nt encourage your son or daughter to take part in... or maybe it is even deeper that- maybe it is guilt for voting for someone who did not have your family's best at heart, one who ignore your pleads and told the rest of the world you don't care ...

so listen you get a second chance to make things right for you, your family, neighbors and for the world..do the right thing vote for a man who has promised to make your life better, a man who knows that his work will be the toughest of any president before him, a man that knows he will be shoveling this country out of a mountain of dirt, a man who knows you and your needs, worries and what you treasure most.....

Please vote for what you know is right and what is right right now is OBAMA..

when the sound you hear changes everything....

when you are woken by the sound of rain it is bittersweet. at first you listen to it as it hits different places of your home, your window your roof..and you love the sound. your eyes begin to open and the room is darker and you like it. you pull in your blanket closer to you and think maybe i will linger here a little longer. then you begin to think of your day at what you had planned for it and now that too must change. there will be no walk in the woods with a friend, no raking leaves in the garden...but perhaps you will stay nestled in comfy clothes and work on that project you have been putting of, perhaps you will make that recipe that you have been wanting to try...maybe you will make a pot of tea and curl up and watch the italian movie you ordered from netflixs...but then you think, maybe you won't change anything and you will put on your wellies, and rummage for a good raincoat, fill your thermos with something hot and go for a walk....just maybe you will do that...

air

i feel the cold. my hands begin to seek the comfort of my pocket and i move my head to the left to avoid the cold air that rushes
towards me. i hear the sound of the leaves on the ground as i walk over them..dried and frail are the twigs that have fallen in my path. my head now looks down enough to shield itself from this bitter wind, my hands hidden safely from the cold
i walk faster now towards home

early morning at the cafe

it is early morning and i park

my car in empty parking lot

and walk to the front door of the cafe

as i open the door i am greeted with

mozart that quickly changes to country?

I sit at the corner, get myself situated

plug my lap top, wish I hand a book instead

what i mean is i wish that it was back then

before all this

i walk to the counter and i am greeted by newlywed tiffany

she hands me a card with my name on it written with a sharpie pen

it is  thank you card with a gift inside. I order my soy extra ice mocha,

but she is quick and it is already made. I look at the case of morning pastries

then look away and before i can stop myself i say i will have

a pumpkin scone please, oh gosh i never order such a thing

and considering that my waist line has grown since i started blogging

i wonder now is that just me? i return back to the table

and now louis armstrong is playing and i start to remember my cafe

and how louis armstrong would play as i got everything ready for the first customer...

now people start to trickle in, i hear every voice clearly

I hear the noise their shoes make as they hit the tile

i look out the window as i sip my first sip, the sky is changing

it is a lovely pale blue with hints of gold

I am wondering about my day now, but quickly i say

to myself, be here in this moment don't rush morning

i love this time of day.

we all have love we all have pain

the smell in the kitchen

loved that we watched elegy in bed inthe middle of the afternoon

loved the smell of apple crisp baking in the oven

i love the spiral staircase that takes me to you

i loved the sun drenched walk in the city on saturday

i loved that i survived the dogs

i loved that he had a key and he did not hate me knocking at 6 am asking for it back

i loved that i survived you saying you did not want to be my friend

any more while you leaned on your pick up truck

i love that i would never do that to you

i love the smell of tomatoes, basil and garlic that travelled up the spiral staircase

i dropped the mirror and heard it crack, but i love that i did not get sad about it

loved even more when i uttered to myself "just try to give me seven years of bad luck"

i loved when i turned that song up really loud and danced in the kitchen

i loved all of it..well  almost!

opera

do you