A Journal Entry

morning
saturday
early


I feel sinister
almost all the time, poet,
like trespassing inside their minds
like photographing them behind the shades
like traveling beyond where things are safe

with my eyes
and questions
and poems

with my camera lens

and the click-clack of fingers
moving across
my computer keyboard

existing beyond
where strangers
should be allowed

existing beyond
where strangers belong

existing beyond
where its safe
to let a stranger
exist
except in the coffee shop
at the edge of the universe
window booth
watching
existence pass by
saturday morning
and what’s left
of friday night
all night
street
prostitutes
sitting
with their coffee
and their toast
and their eggs over easy
with bacon
hair messy
shirts undone
cleavage
showing
in the coffee shop light

makeup running
makeup faded
makeup
unacceptable
in any mirror above the street
but the coffee shop
at the edge of the universe
is the street, poet
the coffee shop
at the edge of the universe
is the place in our minds
where things are allowed

the coffee shop
at the edge of the universe
waits
for candlelight
and wine
candlelight
and coffee
candlelight
and freedom to wonder beyond the walls of tradition
freedom to express
freedom to think
freedom to revolt against the strange corners they put us in
freedom to challenge
freedom to experiment
freedom to absorb jazz like a sponge absorbs water
freedom to film with our minds
freedom to imagine
freedom to praise
freedom to attempt
freedom to visualize
freedom to be oriental in our thoughts
freedom to move in silent dance
freedom to scream
freedom to rave-on endlessly as if in madness
freedom to study
freedom to fail
freedom to communicate metaphorically
freedom to communicate metaphysically
freedom to use Japanese paintings in our poems
freedom to be ritualistic
freedom to be ceremonial
freedom to understand solitude and potential
freedom to be structured and organized
freedom to understand
that it’s that structure
and that state of being organized
that allows
all freedoms
that allows
all philosophies
that allows
all stories to be told


use your talent
to interview yourself, poet

use your talent
to pose questions
and then
to answer those questions truthfully
to answer
those questions
completely


use your talent
as a darkroom
to develop
cerebral
photographs



use your talent
to whisper truths
and half truths
and quarter truths
and falsehoods
use your talent
to mix magic with the light from a movie projector
to mix magic
with philosophy
to mix magic
with fantasy
to mix magic
with how we understand existence
and how we appreciate
existence’s
warmth

use it poet
use it like you
have never dared before.
then describe it for me, poet.


Write soon, my dear Poet
~SAS~