Thursday, February 24, 2011


I am feeling present. there is a serene look on my face. My eyes are closed. I am listening to the sounds and conversations around me. Soft, slow descending debris erupt by my ears. I attach color and light to them. I am so unsure. I feel blissfully ignorant. I am not searching for answers to explain the experience. I do not regard it as extraordinary or significant. It is a feeling of being on the verge of understanding and being right beneath the surface. I am content with this status. I do not need anything. I do not want anything. I have much farther to run, but am patient in my walk. I am, which can never be accurately depicted in language.  

You lanky thing with erratic hair
You androgynous angelic portrait
Though your body construct is to that of David 
Your demeanor is admittedly feminine
Masculine in shape and delicate in motion
I look at you like an optical illusion
I see a man sitting adorning a bandana
and a women with braided lengthy locks
You speak to me as if you were like me
At the same time knowing you are entirely different.
Do you long to be like me?
Do you appreciate the swiftness of your male figure
and the almost hyperbolic femininity of your nature?
I am delighted by both of your characters.
What does that say about me?
Do I  not too, a women, share characteristics of your sex?
Do I move with grace or coarseness?
Who is to assign and categorize these characteristics?
Is it more common, a construct or some of both?
Do I not lead, bend and take?
Can I not objectify you and abandoned you? 

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