non-sense samhain dribbling…

chanting saraswati to baba’s picture, because this is all i can do to calm down, and then my heart opens when i sing to his picture, in the white frock, and i am lost in the love, no longer are there distinctions between you and me.

hours earlier calling it an unproductive samhain, because i feel non-goal oriented about it.  i think snot just dripped out of my nose.  such a westerner.  but in the east, woman are still subordinate.  in the west, they think self worth is being hot.  it’s all fucked up.  what comes around goes around…

reading his book, wanting to emulate… a picture pinned to the wall.  when in love, emulating  is the expression of the feeling of devotion.

i don’t want to make sense anymore.  lost in love.  on the inside.  a goo.

how hanuman is monogamous and can only love one avatar.  do i feel this way?  i wonder…

bees wax burning…i am neither here nor there…i want to please him too, i am feeling the same thing…lost in time…

he was there with him, when i was born…he might have been saying the mantras to cranky traditionalists, right when i was lifted from the tummy.

time does no matter.  there’s a piece of me there, even though my body was just beginning to be here….

lost in time…lost in time…

the connectedness is apparent in the spider’s web…

i love how every autumn, when walking through capitol hill in seattle, you walk past webs with brown mamma spiders sitting right in the center, waiting.  i love them.  the northwest…a place like no else…the emerald city…i-

t’s weird…there’s an initiation you go through here and everything…i cannot explain it…i am tired of explaining…the spirit of a place…

so many ways to see and feel one thing, one essence…can we soften and listen…shedding skin….learning lessons…

grey sheets turned back on the three year old futon, holding this body through two relationships, confusion, loneliness, and transformation into devotion…

bringing the here and now into the here and now…

i truly don’t know what i am saying anymore…the thin veil has these keys typing without my conscious knowing…might be mundane or too abstract…i don’t care…i don’t have wind in me…i am all, still water…still water…patient like spider…love for the eternal living essence that is love in many manifestations, pouring out from a body…

truly you might think me nuts…and not understand what the hell i am talking about…

i don’t care…not here, in poetry…where i can truly be…my…self…