i dreamed once of living down on the islands
flying around
living amongst the drunkards
the rebel, the renegade
the writer
sipping liquor at 8am
making love at 1am
wanderlust at 3pm

dreamed that I would one day get on the jet-stream
and do what life is supposed to do
and let it all be healed

it all made so much sense

it was the choice I was meant to make

af

(written on computer)

paper, sheet by sheet
words letter by letter, permanent
no room for error so choose carefully what to say

slow down
listen to the flute on the turntable
“look into her eyes”

not meant to stay here not meant to be here
drift
drift away
drift away is
drift away is the
drift away is the purpose

I am in this chair
I am drifting through air somewhere else
I am walking
I am making love
…all in this same moment

not meant to know only one possibility

the rap-shots of each letter slapping the page
leaving its stamp on this world
as I am
as this chant is as well
all together for the same reason

no distractions
shrouded in scrolls of ideas

feeding this typewriter for as long as
these eyes will stay open

af

(written on typewriter)

I am not here

my roots were lifted years ago
I am
balancing here for just a few more weeks

right now is about preparation
reading training stocking

take what you need
leave the rest

sexual cleansing

thirty-four days
till those tires land

a transparent pilgrim
living past life
looking for more than answers

I am not here

I am in limbo

finishing up the page

before I walk back into the abyss

 
af

(written ready to go)

people do not want paper trails
yet distrust computers
what is the solution?
it is always easier to know what you do not want

what if we eliminated credit,
monetary credit, as an option
from here on, the debt’s accumulated
must be paid
but the cards are deemed illegal:
pay in barter or pay in cash.

Still need that bag?  Those shoes?
That truck?

af

(written drifting)

I am happy in the corner;
a part of it all
but still contently alone

sleeping in a bus cubby
under a downpour in a tent for one
alone in the kitchen
under a blanket

it always felt safe;
never felt protected out in the open
and never trusted myself to protect

…this is why I must force
to push on, to journey on, to explore on

it is all about attempting to put myself in harm
so that I may learn to survive

 
af

(written with pen on paper)

I’ve ridden the trains all my life
getting off the last stop
lone city boy in the spotlights of the side streets

new york
my training ground for whatever is to come next
teaching me people will always come and go
and we will always intersect in this city of too few

af

(written with pen on paper)

Today
slept with my certain tension
to understand why young people stress
and older don’t give a shit

I appreciate proving myself
to be perfect about something I am not

found myself home again

next challenge
spiritual physical revolts pulled in one direction
that life
the energy
disconnecting the physical

I set the standard
fully lived
friends
bed
traveling
instantly manifested

omens
reading them now
hearing
right now
keep on going

chip jibberish
there is a point
create
all day any way

 
af

(choice pickings from a free-write)