1

how could i have known it.
i would say that one day. in question. but more accurately, how could i have not known it. when it becomes so evident from the time. after the voyage has progressed. the inquiry subsided into the next calm storm.
it began with a spanish conversation. not any but a special one. between two fraudulent speakers. speaking through the veil of spanish to better get to the crux.
tu crees que la libertad existe?
la ultima libertad de nuestro ser?
que piensas?
you looked at me feline. the cat missing in the outside. wandering her journey alone in the elements.
but you asked me
que piensas?
and i am silent for the moment. scrambling fingers grab the lighter and the magic flame to the joint touches off more silence.
you pienso que la libertad viene en el momento que voy a llorar.

2

the moment is one of beauty.
i return from lighting the stove. and placing the kettle on for tea.
do you feel like tea? i ask in spanish.
yes.
i return for you to realize to the world that the moment is a beautiful one. bella is the word you use. we are fraudulent speakers of the truth.

3

yo pienso que este viaje es muy interesante. yo pienso que es la verdad.
i fold my hands in thanks. a quiet momentary prayer while the music sings its final note. the button of the remote needs touching. the next song will be the same as the one we heard earlier. but it will be different inescapably.
your eyes are closed in a murmur.
you asked the cat yesterday while you taught it to dance. where are you from? and she answered meow.
you asked her what her name was. she answered phrrrr.
it was a beautiful way to make first contact. although we already had.

4

the dreams we had were joined. you were sucked into a tunnel of light. a wormhole into cosmic junk yards. and though it was threatening, you held fast and were there. i dreamt i was on a voyager journey. in a large cavern world on a planet never known. we made first contact with chess like people. quiet when we entered.
the captain and i realized we might not be welcome. not automatically welcome. and we left in such a haste. later, i believe, we discovered that we were indeed welcome. but not automatically. that it wasn't a given to receive a welcome in every corner of space.
and we can have a peace of that. a piece of peace with that.
tu vas a la cocina para preparar el té.

5

a message from karine. did you receive my message?
i did.
i write to her i did.
i will call her in the morning and everything is fine.
no more to be said about this.

6

this is the book which will explain everything.
it is a good book.
yes. you agree. it will be a good book.
in a world of good and bad this will be a good book.
we compared it. but it needs no comparison. i will say this now right as i write the words in thought.
it needs no comparison this book.
i look down in a squint of serious writing. then i laugh it off. if it is to be a good book, it should not be taken seriously. not at all. it should be laughed at all along.
until the moment when i arrive to cry. but i don't know this yet. i will know this later when the book has progressed to where i go to cry.
i wonder when that moment will come. the expectation leaves me now. it should be left with all the other thoughts of future events. they have no place in chapter six.

7

the green transparent lighter looks up at me through my hand. it takes on the form of the joint in the ashtray and my thoughts divert to them. i move my hand to see the lighter. i pick it up and the joint burns.
you stalk your upper body. a balanced touching of finger tops. tension of peace and balance. a part of your vision is focused on what moves.
i blow out the smoke toward the candles on the table. the cloud transforms into a nebula of blazing substance and the room lights up in song.
two crossing sword are golden. they're sparkling. they are the balance which is your vision as it passes the boundary beyond yourself.

8

i remember the prophets on our journey to frankfurt. i remember ayman. i remember them all fondly.
there is a quiet rubbing of the hands. i exhale.
the nebula doesn't blaze a second time. but the song continues.
the tea slurps.

9

i keep thinking my sister is upstairs.
when i get up i am careful the door doesn't open into me. i keep thinking she is upstairs.
why would she be upstairs?
to this i have no answer. she left hours ago and she never goes upstairs.
why would she be upstairs?
it is you that asks this question.
but i answer it with silent contemplation.
why would she be upstairs?
i rise to pass the door without fear.
there is no reason for her to be upstairs.

10

i am writing the future before it happens
but this was the present. how could this be?
let me go to the past.
the cat has entered from the outside. she joins, the wise one of the three. her face has smart whiskers. long intelligent moustache. she had wisdom eyes and she wanders the floor with precision and care. she rises questioning. always on her quiet quest.
we followed in procession to the kitchen where the shrine of the lonely blossom was erected by you.
our procession in such quietness that we walked in slow motion steps. one behind you. you in front of one me. one.
we saw the blossom shrine and bowed in all its dying splendor.
where is the cat? we laughed our shadow puppet selves away from the screen.
all i tell here could be a lie. it could be something which is not quite the truth. i am not here to be completely truthful. i am here to cry from my feeling of utter bliss.

11

your eyes are tired. no it is your body's future memory. tomorrow you must dance the hours away. you must rise early on the calling of a beeping phone.
i crave a cigarette but need to quit.
you continue your voyage above in the space made of dreams upstairs.
once you return.
then away you disappear again one last time.
i will see you later. fare thee well.
buenos sueñas. but the spanish has left our tongues now and the fraudulence needs another language.

12

i lay down on the large cushion by the fire. it blazes orange at me and warms. the cat's wise karma character lies murmuring on the brown chair. she is murmuring some wisdom as she speaks into her tail. a curled up ball of wisdom.
and i could sneeze. but i pass. i watch the curled up ball of wisdom listening to the monks chant on the stereo. reaching a climactic prayer. i see you karma cat named phrrrr. i hear your wisdom meditations in the glow of the orange fire. a nebula of loving gas.

13

i could cry at the beauty of my comfort.
the moment passes.
i lay my hands on the bubbling stomach.
i lay there on the blue cushion of fiery comfort for a while. watching the ceiling sky.
i go to the kitchen and cut slices of bread smearing them thick with cold biological butter. and cheese.
i grin with glee. with the goodness of it all. i could cry at the goodness of it all but i grin with glee instead.

14

what is to come is yet to be worked out. i cannot tell you the future or the past. can hardly grasp the moment.
but the tears well up. the eyes begin to sting.
no. the moment has passed. i do not cry. as a tear rolls down my cheek into my smiling mouth. i do not cry and the moment i will know and recognize passes without event.
or perhaps it waits for the moment to be right.
one without expectation. one without fear. embracing. for everything is a gift and i will wake tomorrow morning with that on the tip of my brain's tongue. and write it and understand it. that the struggle is the greatest gift of all. the struggle which keeps your tears bottled inside bursting. fighting. laughing. at all the insanity, the glad insanity. thank you for your time.