P1010027

Archive for February 13th, 2008

Wednesday, February 13th, 2008

Take dark, take light. Take both. Teach them into twine, bind books with the loose change thread of hair revolting from the head. From these strands build something. Harp, cradle, net.  Walking home from the bus this evening, I heard an angry motorist rolling down his window to let another driver know that he was a “f**king asshole.” The hurling of the sentence spun my head in that direction, a palm to my collarbone. Not offended, but still kind of shocked. Not in the words, but in the acid of spit surrounding it. To think he meant it, towards an absolute stranger. A thought crossed my mind, brief: people are mean.Thank goodness this thought proved fleeting.

It is a randomness, to proceed with caution–these little things cannot deter us. Humans I love as their contradictions, the reactionary and thoughtful–both I will only ever kind of understand. Knowing this is okay. Half the battle behind me. I guess I will always be a bit surprised by unnecessary anger. The episode startling.

In turn, I have to feel every bit of my stride, down to the heels and toes slightly gripping–this just to make it on ice thick enough to lose the sidewalk. No matter how aware, I still manage a slip and stumble. Such is the course.

 I do not need the money, nor the resume, no fame. I need my family, my amigos, my heart. I need my pen arsenal, my sleep, my hope. What ever it is that compels me to say this, keep. 

Wednesday, February 13th, 2008

You can put the streetlight

Back in my eyes

And stake a new patience

For a sun turning red

Heat back the seat on the bus ride home

Brand new guitar in this hum of mine

A street cross untouchable off the battle and in the heels a grin

Every unsorted, breath thrown from placement and

You humans

Be nothing but human

May that which does exist not be treated in felony

There are times and coats for this

There are drums all over your sentences

 

Tripwire the neighborhood

Carpet to chrome, living on the glances managed stolen

Not implosion, no not this room where

The music has the people swinging their limbs just so

Time doesn’t seem worth mentioning during first, third, final minute

A distract forgets,

Calls the cause on watches

Shaken wet this pumping thing

Given enough to instigate spur in the wrist sting

Fore and thumb on backbone turning freckles into tracers