7.12.10

Reality
is such a fucking bitch,
but I love her;
the clouds vanish
and she stands here
bristling and danceable.

They say, "She is muggy
and humid too. Sticky and gross;
she is Ephemera, unsubstantial
when poked; she is the reversed
reflection of what I desire."

But, I say, that's not her.
Those are the lies she tells and believes.
Behind that, she shines
fierce as a nail and its hammer.


by jerry gordon
7.12.10

Learning from Echos

In a dream, I spoke to echos
and they replied, “Touch
the flexibility of her waist,
the way it leaves a doorway
empty for strangers, friends and ghosts
to exit and enter.
Watch the wind remove
the stick from her hair
so it can find form in that storm.
There is a location in your nostril
to keep the scent of an hour as it is
bent against a quiet river through a quiet city;
that stillness that is within the reach
and beyond a grasp.
Like this, let the diligent rain of chemicals
fall within your brain
as you speak into the bodies
of what remains unnamed.

“At times you can’t imagine
how much this world needs you
to not do much.”



by jerry gordon
7.11.10