On the Corner of Misery and Paradise

Of course I miss the beach,

echoed my mind.

I miss the darkness of LA’s night, soulful lost in the rushing roaring rampage of starless black sky who cradles one million faces lit by neon glow like visible loneliness. The beach held my sorrows, her constancy could wash my body in ocean tears, it was only me out there, surfing in her embrace,

in the velvet black water, black air, windswept solitary night where horizon melds with the mountains into which the sea melts,

despite the lonesome hours passed heartaching under blazing rays, nostalgia begins to form a callous over the void and fear that consumed those days and now I see her streets as beautiful, as I never would when my pulsing feet would drag across them waiting for time to accelerate

On the corner of Misery and Paradise, I chose bitterly to cry

eternally waiting at dusk bus stops, alone woman Venice night.

glass stores and garage doors, bringing pizza to soft hands and

warm windows on vacation and pushing on deep into the hours

of night so late they contain every mystery and silence that is held

between our ribs.

our fingertips touching dawn, we would sleep until dusk

so if sun blessed our skin it would feel more like a burn…

I was wrong, the city loved me all along

her time has yet to come,

but her vastness reminds me to be lonely

so I will only pass through

her hills and her valleys…

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Deeper into the night

Home—an oasis

Unsure whether it’s where I started

or where I’m meant to end up;

if it’s warm during the winter,

or if it’s in my mother’s arms.

I am in the middle–

of the start and end,

my dreams and past,

his promises and her tears,

my two homes,

my doubts of each.

Soon I will be heading out,

for now I stay around this town

and hope and save and cry,

around the corner, the ride of my life.

as night grows deeper 

I begin to cry,

the sky darkens and I am more alone,

with the hum of the refridgerator

and nothing more.

Flavor in the dark

I understand flavor, and it charges my bones like batteries

merengue drums like my sensual soul

I want to spin across the room and drink in the orange lights

the dazzling cherry gin and juice in your dark hands

and I want you to take me to heaven

is it ok that I hold it all in?

that I don’t like to stand up and I don’t like their eyes

scanning me like their fast thoughts?

is it ok that it’s hard for me

to block every inhibition from my sporadic spirit?

sometimes I forget the music and hear only shadows,

and night, and I’ll want to be alone,

cocooned in a pressureless atmosphere,

no complicated voices, 

only starry solitude. flavor filling up my soul

when I can enjoy it without fear,

then we can truly dance-

us, introverted bats and lava lamps alive with

moonlight and kisses and rocks and open air

 

 
 

tonight

sangria, french fries, nightly waffle and syrup.

nocturnal, alive, bustling at 4 a.m.,

empty apartment, in the dark,

in love with your soul;

we are apart and together,

I taste your love, like God–

from the wind.

someone died in the ocean today

from lightning,

and people fought in the street,

bloody cement and videocameras.

you are cold as your sister yells,

swimming through the snowy Andes,

drinking loose sky diamond stars,

and we are alone

in our fears and our sleep.

but I love you–