The mouth
of the cave
is only a few
feet from me.
I feel the
urgent hands
pushing me.
I want to go.
The light
blinds me,
so completely,
so deliciously.
My heart
Legs are roots,
I’ve seen them
for so long,
I’m accustomed.
They’re beautiful
to me.
Beyond the light
and inviting
warms my face.
I’m propelled forward.
Moving painfully
Are those my fingernails-
clutching the walls?
As the opening gets smaller?
The hands
tear at my hair
and pull at my clothes.
I can’t move.
I can’t take a step.
I’m cursed.


-by Julianita Gonzalvez�


On compartmentalization of thought

I want to be a person who can organize his thoughts properly and act upon them much like compartments in a filing cabinet. A situation arises, you open a compartment, deal with it and close it.

Although, this also brings up the matter of being too unemotional, which may further lead to being inefficient in some facets of my life, defeating the original purpose of being more productive. I admire people like Napoleon, who is thought to have been able to work on several different things at the same time. Whether he was efficient at all these tasks, I do not know. But I still admire the ability. That, I think is the product of being able to compartmentalize thoughts into neat little subjects. Think of it as a modern multitasking computer with the only task being filing topics….constantly..

On thought

I tend to think a lot. Probably everybody does. Sometimes flashes of genius come to mind.. but are lost. That’s because I don’t write them down. I should write them down. Maybe, later in my life, I will actually be able to understand those flashes. I have a theory.

I believe, that every human being on this earth who can think independently are prone to these sorts of flashes. Call it random synapses firing in the brain and coming up with a pattern that the brain recognizes, and we register it as a flash. Or call it a message from God. For that matter, any intelligent being capable of independent thought probably has these flashes. That would include any extra terrestrial intelligence we may/may not find, dolphins and whales if we find a way to communicate with them, and even monkeys, the way we’re going on about genetic experimentation and augmentation. This brings up theological questions about messages from God to monkeys. So, I prefer to give evolution credit for this. Anyway, on these pages I’ve started jotting down some of my thoughts/flashes as they come to mind on various topics.
I will add to this list as time goes on.


The prospect of doing it again fills me with filth. The feeling of doom, sorrow and sadness all come towards me at once. I drown in the aftermath. Time passes by. Stations pass by. The hum of the train intermeshes with my inner turmoil. I remember the face. Sad, sorry, grateful, unhappy yet with a joyful glow. The eyes, playful, constantly watching, the rays of fear shining through as if to pierce your own. Imagine such a face. Everywhere I look, I seem to see people laughing at me, some staring – probably thinking that they were me, some with disgusted looks. I blink. Some are reading, some asleep at the station benches. I look inward. Inside me, I see a hot flaming vulva, pulsating with an orange-red glow, beckoning, like a movie of a flower blooming, forward, backward, forward, backward. Outside, I see a million lights racing past. Other times it seemed beautiful. Now, it seems, every one of them is struggling, to light up the night, to stay sane and to calm themselves, to ward of the evil, inside me, inside the night, inside themselves. A tear drops on the paper, trying to blotch out the words as I write, as if trying to forget. Lucky I use a pencil. I cannot forget. I will not forget. The pain of realization has to live within me, lest I slip toward the pulsating demon again. The bare room with shiny walls, a soft glow, a tea-cup on the side table, clothes on the lone chair. A cell. A cell of living the truth of life. Slowly the train pulls up to my transfer station. I change trains and breathe a sigh of relief. The last train pulls away, taking part of my anguish with it. As I enter the other train, I seem to think. This is how it’s always been, will always be. Such a waste. I get off the train and head home, wiping away the tears in my eyes. What happened? I do not know. I lost control. Even with the strength of a thousand civilizations behind me, I realize, I am still an animal.

-Tram Zack


I swim across the river of memory
I drift apart from its shore
The water takes my weak being
To the place I once was before.
The waves try to take advantage of me
But I fight it like I have never fought before
The fishes of the river smile to me and say,
Go yonder to your sweetest day.
I thrust and struggle through the obstruction
To get to my spot of destination
Which is like a flame of a candle blowing
That brightens the space around
And leaves a black residue not showing.
I get there with all my might
And find out that the struggle was worth the fight.
Sweet air so calm greet and welcome me
Bells toll to nourish the moment of joy.
I breathe, I chuckle, I run, I tumble so free
I shed a drop of tear or two and even three
And ask god why he took away those days from me.


-by Mona Puri (2/2/2000)