A l l   m y   l e t t e r s   h a v e    t u r n e d    i n t o    p r a y e r s

       A l l     m y     p o e m s     a r e     b r e a t h     i n  t h e     a i r

            M a y     a l l      m y      w o r d s    n o t      d e s p a i r  

Audrey

I met Audrey Hepburn on a bicycle once
I knew right away, she was not ordinary.

Opposite of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind =
Eternal Shadows of the Regrettable Heart.

If You.

      I f   yo u 
r e a l ly,  r ea l ly,  rea l l y    t  r  u s t  
y our   h e ar t   a n d  y o ur   co n sci en c e 
a nd   s to p   l is t en in g    t o   e v e ry on e     
 y o u 'l l   be   h a p p y. . . 
and you will know you're on the right road.

Descriptions

If I leave my front door open in the evenings, and the screen door shut, I can subtly observe all the surroundings from here to there, outside my house, on my corner, in my neighborhood. It's that rare part of the year when the weather allows this. Otherwise you'd have to turn your air conditioner off, if you're not wealthy. There's a ball game going on across seventh street. I can smell coffee from the shop on the corner. I can smell carne aside cooking. I can hear my neighbor sanding wood in his backyard. Kids yelling. Coaches chanting. People clapping and cheering. Cars zooming by down seventh. Aircraft backdraft in the air. Squelching disc brakes. I can smell laundry. Boxed powdered laundry detergent. Cut grass. A faint draft of curry. Dogs barking. Hoses shooting. Voices walking. Shoes scrapping. Car doors closing and opening. Laughing. The smell of cut wood. The sound of my dogs nails running across a hardwood floor. Kitty cats meowing. 

Honesty = Travel

I love honesty. That pure gut wrenching vulnerable position we're all faced with from time to time to look at ourselves and make a stance, be it small or big. Or that pure unfiltered brandish that can't be denied. Give'n it all  up to fate. Honesty: No trees, no bushes, no fence. You just know. No or yes. After 34+ years, I can't whack away at some distracting bush in the vineyard when the path is already cleared for me in one direction. My heart is weird, yet true. Complicated, yet true. "The only one for me is me," God tells me... "Until the time for you has come."

I've traveled the earth and one thing remains the same in any culture: respect.

I've been guilty of disrespecting a few cultures by accident but, only while in America. Nothing major, just minor miscommunications because of traditions or culture I wasn't familiar with. Most people understand at least the effort. The ones that didn't, passed by with their own indifference to my culture. But I discovered long long ago, somewhere in Belgium, that cultural differences were only surface level, and sincere humanity always flowed, given the patient chance. 

That's one thing I love about touring the world. Meeting new people that share the same old spirit you do, and almost magically we are connecting the dots to the present moment.

The Effects.

Sometimes it makes me feel nostalgic
whimsical, flirtatious, sad, inquisitive, or
kinda extra sweet near bedtime...
I have a couple cocktails,
I think about the good times, and
only the best of times in life, I feel sugary
For that smile, that laugh, that warmth
of arms, or the long, long depths
that our eyes meet at,
never acknowledging that depth
then or there, or ever unfortunately
It makes me laugh at all the aches
that keep us affected
the effects that bring me back
to where I am, here
lucky, just to know who
I am.