Posted in Almost Dorothy

The Illusion of the Virgin and the Savior

Star | Light | Photo by Neil de la Flor

“We are the stars which sing, we sing with our light…” (“Song of the Stars“, Dead Can Dance)

Sometimes stars are stones. Sometimes these stones disintegrate into dusty weather bands of peace and prosperity blown by the hopeful winds. Sometimes stones are just ideas of stars and what can never come to light. No light is the absence of light. The absence of song. The weather is the echo of empty star chambers. Star wombs exploding in the atmosphere. Their voices silenced by the dark. The song of stars are hidden in choirs of birds flapping beneath the luminous sky. Lost on their journey to God.

Posted in Almost Dorothy

The Illusion of the Virgin and the Savior

Star | Light | Photo by Neil de la Flor

“We are the stars which sing, we sing with our light…” (“Song of the Stars“, Dead Can Dance)

Sometimes stars are stones. Sometimes these stones disintegrate into dusty weather bands of peace and prosperity blown by the hopeful winds. Sometimes stones are just ideas of stars and what can never come to light. No light is the absence of light. The absence of song. The weather is the echo of empty star chambers. Star wombs exploding in the atmosphere. Their voices silenced by the dark. The song of stars are hidden in choirs of birds flapping beneath the luminous sky. Lost on their journey to God.

Posted in Almost Dorothy

Buddha सिद्धार्थ गौतम बुद्ध (Mama)

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Last night ma found a Buddha head. She made the sign of the cross then crossed her legs. She’s cross eyed and often setting grass on fire. She smokes weed and watches birds nest in queen palms. She squirrels her arms around the nest to nurture the blooming birds who squirrel in her arms. She is a bird nest, the nurturer of baby birdlings. She is a nest of thorns and twigs wrapped around birds who coo on cue and cuddle in her hairy arms. Fiery birds. Song birds. Birds of prey and praying birds call ma home. Ma says she is the Buddha of birds. The head of Buddha is the head of a (wo)man or god or god-(wo)man whose hands heal the wounds of the world with their ability to penetrate the night cloak. The no light cloak. The no idea cloak. Ma says she loves Buddha for his moderate philosophy and his inability to judge her ways and wishes as moot. Buddha, ma says, is a form of forgiveness and furriness. Mama, I say. That’s not Buddha. It’s a statue of the spiritual leader. I know, ma says, even better. He never gets tired of seeing. I never get tired of seeing, of sleeping in ma’s arms, of sweeping her sticky rice hair off my silver face as she dishes about the “enlightened one”. Ma turns on the light. Her voice is soft and light as a dollar. A path of moderation away from the extremes of self-indulgence and self-mortification, ma says Wikipedia says. That’s my life from here to then. Amen.

Posted in Almost Dorothy

Shark Valley

Ma | Photo by Neil de la Flor

Ma took me to Shark Valley. Ma is not the bird. She is the woman taking a photograph of the bird. I took the photo of ma photographing the bird. When I grow up, I want to be a bird. The kind that swims underwater like a snake. Ma was pissed cause there are no sharks in shark valley. Only gators and snakes, birds and fish, bikes and plastic bottles.

Gay-tor | Photo by Neil de la Flor

This is not a shark, ma said. I know, I said. Stupid gator, ma said, sleeping like it’s 1999.

This Is A Bird | Photo by Neil de la Flor

This is a bird. 10 seconds after I photographed “This Is A Bird”, the bird pooped. It had the runs. Ma and I ran cause it stank. I swear.

Road To Know Where | Photo by Neil de la Flor

The “Road To Know Where” led us to a tower of babel. In other words, we ran into a family from Germany who spoke German. We made fun of them in English. They made fun of us in German. After that, we hugged. It was Sunday. The day of the Lord.

Sun Cloud | Photo by Neil de la Flor

This is what happens when the sun and a cloud have sex. God is born, ma said.

Bird Water | Photo by Neil de la Flor
Bird Squatter | Photo by Neil de la Flor

Another thing: Birds are not afraid of anything. Not even ma.

Another thing: In the end, Shark Valley was like heaven. Even God spoke through the sawgrass.

Another thing: The cloud on the left, the wisp of a thing that looks like an exploded Pringle, its name is Marvin. He was starving for love, so ma and I blew him a kiss. He didn’t catch it, but we know that in our hearts he is thankful. Just like we were thankful for him.

Marvin | Photo by Neil de la Flor