Thursday, August 12, 2010

TRANSFORMATIONS

I HAD THIS TEACHER, TENTH GRADE ART, I THINK, WHO SWORE SHE WAS A BUTTERFLY IN A PAST LIFE.

CRAZY, RIGHT?





I THOUGHT SO TO, UNTIL I MET A MAN WALKING DOWN FIRST STREET WHO TOLD ME HE WAS A FUCKING CATERPILLAR, JUST WAITING TO TRANSFORM.

COINCIDENCE?

I DUNNO, MAN.  SARA, YOU REMEMBER SARA, THE SKINNY BITCH FROM THE TWENTY-FOUR HOUR DINER ON BEALE AND WASHINGTON.  ANYWAY, SARA ALWAYS SAID THERE WERE NO COINCIDENCES.  SHE CALLED HERSELF A BYSTANDER, REMEMBER?  SHE ALWAYS LISTENED TO US RAMBLE, TOOK NOTES WITH HER EYES.  SARA WAS ALWAYS THE POET I WISHED I COULD BE.

ANYHOW, TRANSFORMATIONS.  LAST AUGUST I HAD THIS DREAM.  NO SCRATCH THAT.  NOT A DREAM.  A REVELATION.  AN EPIPHANY.  AND YOU WERE THERE, TRANSFORMED, CAUSE ONCE YOU DIE YOU'RE NEVER THE SAME.  AND I WAS THERE, AND MY HEART WASN'T BROKEN AND NOTHING WAS BROKEN AND YOUR LOVE REMAINED FIXED AND NEVER STUMBLED AND THE LIGHT WAS MIDNIGHT BLUE AND THE MUSIC WAS SOMETHING SWEET BECAUSE LOVE IS THE WINTER MOON AND DREAMS MAKE UP SEVENTY-THREE PERCENT OF THE EARTH.

I TOLD SARA, OVER TOO MUCH CAFFEINE AND TOO MANY CIGARETTES THAT THEY (YOU KNOW THEY, THEM, THE DREAMS ETC.) STOPPED MAKING SENSE AFTER YOU DIED.  THE DREAMS I DREAMED ON THOSE MIDNIGHT BLUE DAYS - SHIT, THEY BELONG TO THE MOTHER STAR.

REMEMBER, THE ONE THAT FELL THE DAY WE WERE BORN.  I MEAN, REALLY BORN.  AND SARA SMILED BECAUSE SHE KNEW THIS AS WE ALL DO WHEN THE CHOICES ARE NO LONGER OURS.  SHE SMILED AND SIGHED BECAUSE I WAS ONCE HER AND WE KNEW THE WAY THE WORLD WORKED. SHE SIGHED AND YOU KNOW WHAT SHE SAID?  SHE SAID:

i've seen this city sleep - or never sleep - and wake(?)
in the cruel hours just before dawn.  it's soft machinery
slowly whirring, slowly starting, slowly whispering:
they've forgotten the truth here.

AFTER YOU DIED, I COULD HEAR IT.  IT'S INSIDES BEGGING TO REMIND US.  IT'S GUTS YEARNING TO SPILL OVER.  INFECT.  DESTROY.  START AGAIN.

SOMETIMES THE TRUTH IS BURIED SO DEEP NOT EVEN THE EARTH REMEMBER THE ORIGINAL LIE.  UNTIL IT'S FORCED TO SCREAM.  AND EVEN THE MOTHER STAR CRIES.

MY POINT IS THIS:  IT'S ALL A TRANSFORMATION.  EVERYTHING.  LIFE.  DEATH.  LOVE.  WELL, ESPECIALLY LOVE.  WHAT DID I SAY?

I SAID THE FIRE'S BURNING AND THE CITY SLEEPS.  I SAID WE DON'T DREAM HERE AND NOBODY DREAMS HERE AND THE WALLS THAT KEEP THE REAL YOU SAFE, WELL SARA OR SOMEONE LIKE HER BREAKS THEM DOWN.  BURNING WITHOUT COINCIDENCE.  

I SAID SPRING IN ASTORIA.  AND THE EARTH STOPPED SCREAMING AND THE MOTHER STAR IS REBORN AND SOMETHING NEW, SOMETHING ALMOST BEAUTIFUL, ALMOST FUCKING BEAUTIFUL, IS BORN.  

I SAID EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON BECAUSE DREAMS MAKE UP SEVENTY-THREE PERCENT OF THE EARTH.

I SAID SOMETHING EXTRAORDINARY.

I SAID SOUL-MATES.





I MEANT IT.

1 comment:

Tanvi Nimkar said...

"I've seen this city sleep - or never sleep - and wake(?)
in the cruel hours just before dawn. it's soft machinery
slowly whirring, slowly starting, slowly whispering:
they've forgotten the truth here."

Wonderful lines, it touches the core part :) Keep on exploring!

You have a nice blog here, good going!