Creased like the spine of your favorite novel- spontaneously taking you back to the moments you found most moving – each line is duly paid for with time. Your skin is the receipt for your experiences, stained from those summer days you stayed in the sun too long. From the knowing smile at the white lies you let your daughter get away with, to the flushed cheeks you hid beneath your hands because your admirer caught you staring; From your lover’s kisses that have now curled your lips the way they used to curl your toes, and the lifetime of worries nested in the brow that weighs on the lids of your eyes. I can trace your stories along each of these lines. Years of pain has burrowed deep in the joints of hands that have as many impressions as you have made on the lives of others. They brush the thinning hair from eyes that have witnessed and weeped for both loss and love. And of all this, I have none. My skin is smooth and lips full. My eyes are bright and hands strong. But I see you and now I know that, if I am lucky, I will one day look like you- mapped with the diary of my history.
Intellectual stimulation is a foreplay often forgotten
to the conclusion
that my attraction to men
many years- decades-my senior,
is a misplaced credit
has less to do with
a kind of freudian temptation,
but rather I’m drawn to the magic of a mind
swollen with the nectar of intellect
and a wisdom that
This has become an attraction
that not just outweighs the typical pull
of the usual superficial attributes, but has the power
to completely void them. A quick wit,
a talent for wonder,
and a wet
How arrogant must one be to think he is exempt from the laws of nature when his very existence is a result of such laws.
Everything in nature is there because it fought like hell to be there and negotiated with its environment for existence in exchange for function. As a part of the natural world humans do not hold an immunity to this fundamental desire to exist, but must recognize that there is no tree without water and no water without oxygen- that our place in this world must have a function that promotes the existence of that which sustains us. Otherwise, we risk being the casualty of a renegotiated environment.
1. Expand and contract with strong regular movements
The audacious ‘?’ is the driving force in the expansion of knowledge. It forces us to take a closer look and reexamine all that our lazy minds have accepted without trial. It causes entire systems to be reinterpreted and interrupted, and through the pursuit of the answer often comes more questions. Many times we find ourselves stuck in between question and answer, and have to take a step back to insure we’ve asked the right question before moving forward. And once we’ve finally found the answer, our tiny declarative period will morph into another ‘?’ to be explored.
This is the pulse of Science
and the core of Human Evolution
My fear is that our ego will one day make us feel so superior and removed from this pulse that we will abandon the desire to fuel it. If this happens, then the only evolution left to observe will be that of our own decay.
That moment between letting go and your next adventure when you realize you’re a million feet above ground and have nothing to hold but your breath.
Gossip milk has stained your lips.
Don’t kiss me.
(We can’t pick our family, but we can define our relationships with them. Somewhere we’ve lost the power to establish boundaries in our relationships under the notion that familial titles come with fixed entitlements.)
You bought me a drink
Wanted to see how far I’d let you go
My song played on the radio
Close the curtains I’m not an early riser
Pass the vodka before you pass out
I now hate my favorite takeout
I only recognize you after midnight
That new bar sucks
I missed your call last night
Your kinda cute in the sunlight
I’m not photogenic
You keep that up and your face will stick
You pour me another cup then we fuck
Whats the name of that one song Turn it up
Just text it
Don’t come up
You complain I’m getting cryptic
You like to fight
I like the make up
Maybe sometime next Tuesday
I hate the way you smell
Not this week next week
You hate that my lipstick stained your pillow
I haven’t been around
I threw your vintage tee out my window
My long hair is gone now
You look the same
Whats your friend’s name