Vista Vista

Does anyone else find it strange that someone who calls himself “The Maverick” takes such extreme issue with friendship with a former domestic terrorist (and I’m prepared to believe that Barack Obama and Bill Ayers actually are friends, despite the Obama campaign’s denial of this fact)? I mean, how much more “Mavericky” can you be than to associate yourself with someone who tried to blow up the Capitol? McCain claims that he is “unpopular in the Senate,” but he has never tried to blow it up.

I’m so tired of metaphors. Destroy a fucking building if you think Washington is such shit and so “broken.” I bet people would get the point more clearly. Kill your idols.

And this is the way we’re told to understand

The powers of weather

The powers of woman and man.

Yesterday was my birthday. I’m not sure how to feel about that.

I’m falling asleep again. What was that you said?
You said you were coming. You said it would happen.
Yesterday’s forever. The future never is
And let’s explode. And make a home.
So I fill my jetpack with kool-aid and milk
And went to fly. And wet the sky.

And when I get there I smile for you
Don’t you worry. Don’t you worry.
The polity’s a-wire. The ink is barely dry
But you’re a fiction. And I’m a toad.

    I’m rarely certain of my place in the universe. Days, months, questions, thinks, lipsticks, fires, holes, crawlings, whispers, sex, clocks, cocks, and socks all pile up and up and up so high I am sure I cannot touch the top. I admit this lack of bravery bravely. But I am rarely sure whether I am under it all or standing beside it. Sometimes I am certain I can feel it all on me. When I wake up, it sits on my chest. When I stand, it dances and balances on my shoulders. When I do handstands, I kick it.
But other times I am certain I stand beside it. These are times when I cannot understand others’ smiles. These are times when photographs look too real and the sky is a painting. These are times when I cry during a song because I’ll never hold it. These are times of loss, release, hunger, sleep, sludge, and pollen and I don’t always know how to deal with them. I suppose that’s part of getting older.
I am told that in August we may be eaten by a black hole. This certainly changes things. Of course, I understand the apprehension. I think it’s all more exciting to those of us who know what the inside of a black hole is like.

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