i live on a planet of sound

i live on a planet of sound 

highs and lows form the landscape 

the temperature

the texture 

echoing calls from far off

voices that carry over tremendous distances

a beat that makes walking an adventure 

a thrill

 an experience 

clouds you could reach to 

warm harmony 

that drifts into a distant horizon

you

you are just a barking dog

you are the the inconvenience of waiting in a line

you are the crack in my neck when i stretch

you, i don’t care about 

you i don’t care who is annoyed by the way in which i move

you who acts angry 

you pierce through none of my guard

you who talks to me like a little  girl

you who talks to me like i can’t comprehend 

you who don’t like my music

you who don’t like how i speak 

you who must take up more space than you need

and want me to give it to you because you  think 

i will fight you

or won’t fight you

you who are my friend but act like you hate me

you who don’t trust me

you who can’t see me

you who don’t care

who looks at your phone while walking 

walling off yourself to what world you are in

i’m not angry at you

you i know you more than you

and you who is more than the you i see

you who i burn to see

you who i want to be around

you i’m so anxious to see

you because i think you are more than the you i know

you i hope you want to show me that

the many little things of today

the many little things of today

went a new way today

discovered a surreal plant

discovered how one street was connected to another

did many small things

that i hope will have an impact

felt better when i left 

than i did as i entered

taking a deep breath

here we go

found ways to help those around me

found little things i could do to protect them from stress

i am grateful for that

it makes me see myself differently

and remember who i am 

all night 

sweat

room full of magenta purple 

bright light pans every corner

tiny moving reflections circle the room

expanding into points warped by their orbits

and 90s house beat

vibrating basslines that carry us across

warm mid levels

with synthetic piano 

dancing shadows move in a small room

crowded 

empty

each one alone even in the of warmth of togetherness 

while the beat goes on

singer calls over the anthem something we can all relate to

but the joy is personal 

we hold it in

don’t express it except through

constant movement 

as the music builds

beat gets thick

basslines so heavy that it would be impossible not to move

filling every corner

every cell

every thing

even the floor

the light

imbued with sound 

that becomes the bodies

becomes the space 

becomes each movement

burning strong

the beads rolling down sides of faces 

until eyes begin to realize where they are

music transforms

a gust of air spreads love

relief

and then the people dance not too the music

not just to the music

but the moment of connection 

when eyes are seen

hands are felt

smiles are revealed

morning air

morning air

when the sky looks like a thin mist

bright blue mixed with clouds from another world

when music seems to hang on the air

and everything is vibrant, as if truly deeply more real than what reality is

when the chill of the air brings excitement 

dancing to become warm

hands in pockets

running in place

bringing arms in to hug the sides of bodies

hot air coming from mouths and noses

turning to the curling mist visible at the horizon 

chill that touches the back of eyelids eyelashes

when the crispness of morning awakens 

the eyes that look up to see the newness the oldness the solidness the opacity 

and trailing melody drifting into distant mountains 

below

below

i’m hoping that underneath the surface 

filled with storms and sharp currents

fierce winds that whip cheeks

heavy waves that seem to never end

that there is a space of calm and depth

its sophistication so intense

that those who witness it would be in awe

make someone look twice

then dive under 

deep with clarity, purpose, direction 

until the confusion at the top 

is a blip on the radar screen

note book

there is a worn notebook

collection of songs

blueprints frayed at the edges

from hours, days, years spent underneath the machine

tinkering with word placement

the edges frayed

the paper sometimes coffee stained

the ink runs where liquid hit the page

these songs, while just created,

are ancient

timeless

yes, this notebook is a series that indicates creative process 

and sometimes stagnation 

and sometimes fear and anger and resentment 

this notebook is a record

an indicator of potential progress 

when looked at linearly

even with the dips and valleys

the scribbles and the words not meant crossed out

you will find pages torn from the spine to give a note to someone else

this notebook has one half of the beginning somewhere in the middle of the body

somewhere between two different songs

while the end is the first thing written

it takes a while to rework it in order

we will get there

the pages crackle when i turn them

the words themselves sing

and when they are spoken outloud 

it is like an incantation

a prayer