reflection in the drivers helmet has seen my tears stream, my voice sing, me smile, me blankly stare ahead. rearciew mirrors point to me in a private side-reflection.
lately i have been riding on the back of my mothers motercycle. she drives and i look all around me. the beautiful paragraph i just wrote i accidentally clicked away and now i feel foolish and stumbly. never that on the back of a motercycle, everything passes you, and all you can do is feel what it is like to be you in that very moment. the only thing to do is hold on, straighten your back, and feel the wind rush beneath your feet. React to everything as you would, look at your reflection, then watch the ever changing scape around you. make deep eye contact and silly faces and truly kind smiles and spread your energy. sing and caw at birds, driver-pending. most recently my mother drove us to a tunnel i am considering singing infront of others in, and on the way back i held on with ine atm like a horse, and yhe other held up high with a bouquet in my hands, letting the wind press the flowers into my palm so that they did not fall. i am like lady liberty but very much alive. next time i will hand out flowers then whizz away. so much better to be the passenger and enjoy the view, i get to stay in my ditsy brain, calm, spirited.
(i truly wrote the most beautiful piece in response but accidentally deleted it and this feels so inadequate, but i just wrote and relived beauty, then tried to relive my relive, so, life is your best writing getting deleted. heres a pic)
May 17, 2024
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sure driving is hot and fun. But riding on the back?
i've been riding on the back of my moms motercycle a lot these days in japan. If i look dead ahead, i see my own, warped reflection in my moms helmet. I make faces, i look there and in the sideciew mirrors, which she cant see me through, and pull faces, see how im feeling by my face. and if I look anywhere else, the world is whizzing by at a perfect speed of fast enough to always have something new to look at, but slow enough to notice. i love the air that rushes under my geta sandals. I love the green that i can focus on or let blur, i love the changing smells, i love balancing, i love holding on like km riding a horse but straightening out my back, because when you dont have a backpack on a motercycle, your straight-back is a feeling from the heavens. I love how we go somewhere and theres no transition of outside to inside to outside to inside, i feel integrated, i can breathe, i can think. no looking at anything other than what is around me, and feeling what it is like to just react as the me i am. I can hold only short conversations with the driver as we ride, which is relieving. We are not fully cut iff from eachother but we are neverheld by conversation. I have wept in desperation of wanting to want life again in the back of my moms motercycle. i have laughed. i caw back at birds and sing till my mom tells me to shut up, which is most often immedietly. I hold off for a bit, till i feel i really must shout out again. I try to hand people flowers. I raise my arm with a bouquet in my hand, as we ride down the shore-drive, i let the flowers press against my hand and let the wind help me hold them up. I am like lady liberty but so very much alive and driving past you fast. i smile and look deeply into the eyes of strangers as we stop. they are almost always astonished to be seen. i spread my kindness and move on with the wind, spirited š¬ļø
May 24, 2024
weāre careeningā well, that
sounds dramatic. not
careeningā but
sliding, holding you
and myself in placeā
because my disposition
leads (and has always led)
to believing abandon reckless
will kill if I let it as close
as myself and yourself
held only by bicycle rope
or kayak rope or moving box rope
side beside inside truckbed
backseat forgone
throats slicked with City of Roses
forest gin and Artemis Moons
Iām sober and youāre not
Iām anxious and youāre not
youāre carefree spit-balling
about side parts and
saying love and love
as we pass long-haul truckersā
eyesclosed Lyft driversā
that pinkie-promise
coworker to fast friend
elbow to elbow
barefoot to clogs
off in the cab
shallow river dipping
mask off cheek pinch
I-tell-everyone-youāre-my-cousin
kind of love
that no mother could ever
that no father could ever
that kind of love
that door we kicked
down and threw into that
mustard bonfire of before
that old worthless hinge
donāt work so wonāt bother
not ever not now
not in this truckbedā
I toss my thoughts to traffic
fine me $900 for littering
lock me up for language
you say what a beautiful city
my glasses are in my pocket
those empty offices
stacked apartments and
windowbeam glitterblurs
fall into the nightvoid
Iāve seen beautiful
and more unmatched in
those words you weave
so keep weaving themā
Iāll be here listening
long after we pull
into the driveway.
(& if u like it, I linked my poetry newsletter :)
May 14, 2024
ā
you know,
all i like to write about is love.Ā
writing is easier when itās about your own personal experiences of grief, of pain
but love is the beautiful dove of the twoĀ
released at a funeral, released at a wedding.
,
because the definition is different for everybody.
ā
the trees rustle again tonight, and the wind gently taps on the windowpane, begging again to be let in
and my thoughts race farther and faster in the night than a pure-bred, hot-blooded racehorse, bucking wild for the first time
my mind buzzes, stricken like a gong, reverberating in the quietness of tonight
as i drag myself closer to you,
you reach out for me, an unspoken, gentle and devout prayer, asking for me in the unspeakable words conveyed in a whisper through actions
ā
i promised you a fantastical world of your own, where you are safe, through my own creation.
i have created for you in the heart of my own somewhere for me to love you,Ā
fully and infinitely with all of myself.
if this is not where you are safe, then there is nothing else.
āĀ
word by word and sentence by sentence
i create dreams i would never tell anybody
not even under the skies of a cloudless night.
when i sleep, i tuck my hopes and sadness under my pillow
and hope a fairy will kidnap it and place in that spot
something i should need more.
but night after night, my dreams just macerate in the container of my heart.
soon, i will drink them like an elixir of truth
and what i am afraid of will come
3d ago
Top Recs from @chai
ā
Can't reccomend this enough
Dec 27, 2023
š²
if you cant get yourself to put your phone away quite yet, just get yourself to look at the room behind your phone, or the real world, as a constant practice. its like when the screen used to go black between eisodes of netflix loading. a reality check. it feels good, i promise. foreground the bavkground, even for a moment. be kind to yourself
May 24, 2024
š²
much more effective, much more confusing, much more true
Jan 22, 2024