I grew up in Miami during the 1970s. There were abundant supplies of cocaine, pills, weed, speed and angel dust. In the days of pre-AIDS awareness that stoned, anonymous and unprotected sex with strangers in semi private places was a common way to spend a Saturday night. Hell, a Tuesday morning or a Thursday afternoon or a Monday lunch hour for that matter. If a person, like, say, me for instance had a predilection towards bisexuality and curious nature of the realms of human consciousness, an overactive teenage libido, a naked contempt of authority, a deep belief that every last thing my parents ever said was wrong, wrong fucking wrong, well, it made for a very busy social calendar.
Somehow, I never spent any time in jail, caught any diseases or killed any significant amount of brain cells that haven’t been restored through my current practices of yoga, a very active devotion to magickal spirituality as well as a large and diverse group of family and friends that love me as much as I love them. It helps also that anytime I’ve ever lost sight of my blessings that a long line of people manifests before me and threatens to beat the living bloody shit out of me to help remind me of who I am and the grace of my life.
In my early 20s I got profoundly burned out on promiscuity and recreational chemical consumption. I wanted to meet the love of my life, my exclusive and monogamous lover, the other half of my heart, the part of my soul long missing. I began to pray. I prayed while sitting on the edge of my bed every morning and night for a year. She (or it very well could have been a he) finally came into my life one day. Today, July 24, 2011 is the 24th anniversary of my eyes first receiving her vision as she came around the corner in the arts building of Florida International University. Her big blue eyes were the first thing I saw and I forgot for a second to breathe. My life has never been the same since.
However, if I said that everything from that moment forward has been a neverending parade of hearts, flowers, unicorns and rainbows that would be a huge reeking hill of bullshit. To accompany and compliment the joys of her in my life, there have been some tough damn fucking times since then that would have split many other couples up. I could here start spouting off a list of those spaces in time, but those are stories not for now but for the future ruminations. But it’s those damn fucking tough times that in retrospect make me realize how special we are and what a blessedly fortunate son of a bitch I am. I've said this before, but it's the truth. The right prayers get answered. Not a day goes by that I don't say Thank God.
This poem is called ‘.....a passing of vision....’. Years ago, I was walking around our old house. The voice said ‘Go to your desk and start writing. No, you don’t need to first go get a cookie or a glass of wine or a cup of tea. You need to go to your desk, shut your big yap, pick up a pen and start to write.’ What resulted is below. I’ve voiced this in spoken word performances and used it in pieces of art. I don’t know if this is the best poem I’ve ever written, but it’s sure as heaven and hell, my favorite. I’ve never edited a word.
How blessed am I
that you should pass
through my vision
if only for a moment
in this speck of an hour
on the back of my life
The continuing deluge
the fervent maelstrom
for an instant ceases
and we are frozen
in mid dance step
on the edge of a roof
in the midst of turbulent night
If I may bless you
with my limited light
my soul will have grown
by simply knowing your silence
assured by your smile
across these miles of distance
that two strangers
know as a bridge
a blockade
and a simmering smoke
of a dream of past lives
on gas lit roads
with horses and carriages
that carried our lives
were too soon cut short
by the boredom of time
that forced us
to separate our embrace
that I promised would be eternal
but my aspirations towards eternity
and cajolings of God
fell short of my wishes
and ruptured my dreams
until now
Here you sit
with your hand on your face
and God
how I wish it were mine
Accept this, my love
as a crippled gesture
slicing the veil of eternity
The gaslights burned dry
and have been replaced with/ the fire
of electricity
while inside
the hammers and stakes
that oppress my vampire heart
have long since broken clean
at the shafts
For it is my love
that erases this blackness
the trials by fire
threats of the weary
and crimes of the tortured
could not distract
from my feverous life
that pours like sweat
from my liquid soul
I keep you in mind
in the depth of my sleep
and each time I die
the dance resumes
as if it never had ended
while the roses I brought
and the wine that you chilled
dance in crystalline stillness
and the angels wonder
how a love such as this
could be so divine
Until next time, all my love,
Max
PS. Before posting, I let her read this. She kissed me and said “I love you’.
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