Where Reality is Being Performed

“To stay in one’s room away from the place where the party is given (…) is to stay away from where reality is being performed. The world, in truth, is a wedding”.
-Erving Goffman, Performances; The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life.

falling where the feelings are

round and around the lines
trace the cumulus, un-trace the rain
falling where the feelings are
hot as ice as it burns
a crest where everyone, and everything swims

and everyone at the ready to race

did you see the pockets of caves?
in between the rushing of time
and everyone at the ready to race
relax and you’ll be run over
trampled to death before you could actually live

always a ceremony to act out

life is a wedding party
always a joining of two halves
always a ceremony to act out
an entrance to lives on a dance line
to all the funerals

the lines cuts off to cut the cake

dissonant tones on piano keys
your melody can seem to seethe
the line cuts off to cut the cake
you must have lost your mind
looking for it in every room

no one wants to sit in a silent room

it is what it is until it unsticks
and rhymes limp away
no one wants to sit in a silent room
your mind is in your head
your head swivels too much you brute

conjuring up illusions as bright as the sun

no one sees the caves
no one steps into what they don’t want to see
conjuring up illusions as bright as the sun
while some hide away-
prayer hands, unfed eyes, an unwedded mess

the way they force feed you

feed the senses sentences seasoned with obsolescence
can’t even close the eyes, mighty bright
the way they force feed you
and then you starve
all this just to catch an overpriced bouquet

Where Reality is Being Performed

no time to waste in an empty room
looking everywhere for a mind you own
wondering if reality is the party you miss
trapped in your own bubble
popped by a thrown bouquet
don’t you wanna join?
reality here is being performed
don’t you want a role?
don’t you want a script?
words written shoved down your gullet
a lovely muppet, to flop around
to the joys of others
always to the joys of others
fall where the feelings are
your mind will never belong
throw it away
and burn into the ice
or live on your own
a silent room to sit in, eyes closed

a silent gaze overcomes

i’ve stayed in one place for too long
as the rest of the cosmos dance
but i rip myself away
and loneliness will not become my only love
i am your heart beneath the moss

a silent gaze overcomes
the entropy within

render me a brutish monk
star of mine
or lend me your hand
so we can finally have that dance

language of veracious effort

in solitude with the earth
standing among and in the thorns
hands do fill and they fist
everything spills the will to bring
it’s all mistaken in the heat
when all is cold and the empty is all

in solitude with the rest
sitting among the standing elms
do you see me?
or do you see something else?
i call to temples
and sing in my dreams
of a time when a god was very close to me

in solitude with you
i want to dance a verse
that only your soul can compose
but i suppose
you’re still lost among the thorns
and the empty
drowning in entropy

but in solitude i’ll say this
whatever love is made of
and however it is measured
it is not a basin that fills and empties
nor a prize
nor a treasure

loneliness overlooks venal entropy

a covet that warms the heart
it wraps the emotion in the center
it swirls and unfurls into fullness
a covet to a covenant
but it fulfills nothing
it just fills
and drowns what cannot escape
Rainier cautions
to hold loneliness close
but sometimes loneliness
can mistake the vastness of emptiness
as a playground to roam
eyes clear, my dear
for this vastness can invite much
more than you can ever dream to hold