Second to Last Day

Second to last day at Vista High School. Anticipation and bitter-sweet thoughts. Did I do all that I could for them? What did they learn about themselves? It’s never about me, you know. It is about them: the students. They give me an energy in the classroom that I cannot describe. It is better than coffee, more filling than a feast. I have many purposes in life, but they have given me one more; live for them, teach for them, and be there for them. If I can show them but a glimpse of the world and what it would be like without injustice, then I have done my job.

Looking toward the summer, just barely looking up enough to see the horizon, and I am blinded by uncertainty. That is what makes life mysterious, however, and interesting. I crave the Unknown; We only fear the Unknown? I then crave fear, if only to overcome it.

I clench and unclench my fists, feeling my fingernails on my palms. Nails? I need to climb. I need to run. I need to get by body back to where it was before. Selah.

My keyboard has finally been thoroughly broken in and I type seamless sentences. My thoughts, my brain, my words.

Mom and I had a good conversation about my life last night. I spoke my mind, she listened, she didn’t condemn: we are improving.

I feel older. It seems that I am learning life lessons exponentially. I am more aware of myself, more attentive to my actions, words, intentions, and feelings. I am here: now. This is a beautiful day, a timeless moment. May I make the most of it.

My Winter Ensemble (original 10/3/06)

If the winter grew any deeper

or the snow whiter

There I would find

my perfect ensemble

For Old Winter sings

Of times long forgotten

And Lady Snow whispers

of the land she buried

This tune echoes on

within my ears.

The rhythm kept

by the nod of the forest

The melody chimed

by the wind and icicle

Here I sit

I feel my heart will burst

if I do not join in

So I close my lips,

open my heart,

and sing, sing, sing

for all I am worth.

Coffee Dream

I wake this morning
to the faint smell of coffee
and with a mug in my hand.
Somewhere, I am smelling cinnamon.
I sip, eyes closed -- your image before me.
You slide your hands
across my belly, behind my back
to draw me close to you.
Breathing in, falling near,
I lean my head on your shoulder
Your lips press against
my earlobe, brush my neck,
and I smile my way
back to my cup of coffee --
opening my eyes, I do not see you,
but I faintly smell you;
and taste you on my tongue.
For once, I am looking forward
to Christmas this year.

Lurking

I fear the silence that has been growing.
Yet the more I fight, the more it is.
In my words I find no answers lurking
And there you sit, saying no-thing.
In quests you're found, just not here --
You are there and I am not.
Three cheers for the battles you win!
Deeper silence for the battles I've lost.

Oppression

We are an oppressive and oppressed people. And in each action there seems to be a lack of good and an overwhelming sense of insincerity. We are not a caring people. This is our triumph and bondage.
Slaves to our own uncause. We are turned inward like a rolled leaf, unable to take in sunlight. We have become dark. Not dark like the beauty of a night sky, but dark without light, dark without faith, dark without the need to aid others.
We are caught up in the meaninglessness of self-image and self-importance. We diet and run and try to lose weight while six-thousand children die from starvation each day. We are pathetic. Only we would gouge out our eyes and gorge our bellies and call it a day well spent.
Maybe a depression is what we need: a wake up call to our selfish ways. The depression won’t set us back—it will set us right. Bring it on. The faster the better.

Imitation of Yoko Ono

BALLOON PIECE
Use balloons for fish tanks. Put on display at the museum.
Spring 2009

CLOTHES PIECE
When you walk out into public, pretend that
None of your clothes match. Comment about your unfortunate situation.
Spring 2009

PIER PIECE
Tie a multi-colored piece of yarn around the base of the nearest pier. Imagine that the yarn is the only thing holding up the pilings.
Spring 2009



For Ono's work: http://www.borndigital.com/aaaa.htm

Untitled

First, what I’ll need you to do is calm down. Take off your watch and set it here. Now your glasses, fake nails, earrings, necklace, and your hair-tie. You will then proceed to take off your shoes, socks, take off your clothes, and walk right this way without embarrassment. You will feel the liquid sand sinking under your feet. The waves rush up to greet you, and it will feel cold at first. But as you walk forward, leave all your worthless possessions behind, you will feel the water becoming warmer. Warmer to you.
Now. Close your eyes and forget everything. No, I mean it: everything. The lies they whisper to you; the promises they never carry through with; everything that they’ve taught you. Good. Now—don’t stop breathing! Just because you forget all that shit doesn’t mean you stop breathing.
OK. I’m going to need you to continue to move forward. You will start to feel intimidated by how large the waves appear. But they’re not that big. You are not standing on the surface of the water next to the waves—that why they are overhead, over you. Come on! I’m not going to hold your hand through this: YOU wanted this!
It’s not going to be the speed of your walk, it is going to be the persistence with which you walk. Keep both feet on the bottom of the ocean and go. As your head is covered in water, it is natural to panic and try to swim—Don’t. Good. I’m going to need you to keep your eyes—both eyes—open. There, you see? They told you “you must have oxygen to survive”. They lied. You sought the truth though, didn’t you?
Excellent. You are almost done with the rehabilitation process. I need you to stop and stand where you are. Just where you are. Yes, that’s fine. Now, as your eyes are open, your feet are solid, and your hands are empty, I need you to feel whole. Not half-whole, not nearly-whole: Whole. I need you to focus in on you—what makes you you. Don’t even think about remembering the many thems. Think about you. Here. Now. There you go.
Choose the best answer to the following question:
“You” means what?
(a) A composite of what they have all said about you.
(b) A worthless assortment of atoms and shit.
(c) I am a strong woman who will stand, and be, and be whole.
Is that really your answer? Is that the answer you can freely choose now?
Now that you are standing naked, with solid feet, at the bottom of the ocean, eyes open, breathing in truth—you chose correctly. See.

What do you do now? I’m going to need you to live…