We break the clouds, and light kicks out the windows of the plane, welcoming me back to real life. Good morning, sunshine. It's 2 PM, Hawaiian standard. The island says hello.
Bleary and barely sentient, we wait impatiently for the car, napping on stone embankments, on light posts, on each other. It's a mark of how tired we are. This is not a place of subdued colors and blended shadows. What's not worn away by the sun is strong and vibrant, and the shade of trees has edges like knives. Humid. Wet. Montana never seemed so far away.
The sun blinds, and the traffic is terrible - overcrowded, the streets filled to the brim. The roads scramble over each other in a futile attempt to achieve the pragmatism of point A to point B on an island that has neither. Even the most hardened GPS navigator cannot narrate the route we take with accuracy. To reach the hotel we must thread under and between two others, around four more, stare blankly at a parking lot with the same name, stop and ask for directions, tunnel under the earth. Sleep leaves us.
A good thing, too. Twenty stories up, the beds are singles, smaller than good couches. The toilets are a few inches lower to the ground. Window is cracked. Wallpaper is ugly. Internet is not free. The sooner we are back outside the better.
On foot, everything is different. People stare and scowl viciously - they are Native, and I am in their Native Land, and this is what has become of it. When Cook came, they stabbed him to death on the rocks before his crew.
He got his revenge.
The languorous mood is there, at least, the heat of the sun dulling the little barbs with passivity and apathy. The tourists smile and nod like tourists always do. Vacation. Yes. I can walk barefoot through the streets, the beach is never more than a few blocks away, and trinkets and trifles adorn every corner. I buy symbols without knowing their meaning, hang them around my neck with strange pride. A man outside the market forces parrots on unsuspecting passersby, takes pictures, demands money. Guilt is his sole source of income.
The term “tourist trap” is a truism, and we will not be misled – the best moments in this place are in the little things. My time here is spent in gas stations and corner stores), or on foot in winding streets with a single companion, admiring local residences and ignoring large hotels. Good food to be had at the drive-in diner. The macaroni salad is not to be believed.
And the darker it gets - the less people there are - the more alive it seems. I take my leave of the group. We are revisiting old places already.
A beautiful woman passes by me, harassed by two drunks. Never missing the chance to be a chivalrous imbecile, I place myself between her and them, readying myself to leap to her aid. Before anything real happens, she sticks out a hand and a cab swoops her up like a hawk - there in an instant, gone in a flash, with an ease that speaks of practice. The drunks shrug and meander away. I do the same. Moving on.
The beach. Nothing man could ever do to mar the brilliance of the ocean. I enter the water as the crowd leaves it, swim alone, refreshed. Though the water is salty enough to gag on it is beautiful beyond reproach. So many boats that have not come in yet. Sunset engulfs the retreating sails in a brilliant portrait of bright reds and yellows on dim blues and oranges, lighting fire to the night. What we pour into the sky only makes it prettier.
And following: the twilight, carrying as always an energy to it. What is true in one place stays true in another – light remains when the sun dies out, everything glows, and I am alive. I itch for pen and paper, for a friend, for true love, and yet I want for nothing. Electricity. It is magnified by the newness of it all, by the sensation of the water, by the vast and colorful and indifferent world around me.
In the flourescent light that follows from the hotels at my back, I dig sandcastles inches from the tide, with moats that turn immediately into sinkholes. I write hasty notes with my fingers that last only minutes. I stand in the sand and let myself sink as it dissolves, ankle deep in rich mud. The waves are large enough to drag me away - and almost, almost I wish that they would.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Bang Or Bust (2009)
As suicide methods go, it wasn't a bad one:
he took the cheesy plastic hand grenade
and replaced it with a real one
its pin tagged with a gaudy red number 12
on the plastic stand cheerily mocking every walk-in
"Complaints Department: Please, take a number"
He sat quietly at his desk
in the kind of clothes they'd bury him in
waiting for someone to realize the truth
through experimentation.
Curiosity, he theorized
would kill more than just the cat this time.
he took the cheesy plastic hand grenade
and replaced it with a real one
its pin tagged with a gaudy red number 12
on the plastic stand cheerily mocking every walk-in
"Complaints Department: Please, take a number"
He sat quietly at his desk
in the kind of clothes they'd bury him in
waiting for someone to realize the truth
through experimentation.
Curiosity, he theorized
would kill more than just the cat this time.
Hemingway Sits (2008)
Hemingway Sits
Hemingway sits
in his blank old apartment
graying with age
Hemingway quits
Hemingway stands
with a fine old shotgun
he hunted with once
in Hemingway's hands
Hemingway cries
like he said he never would
because he can't accept it
and he can't reject it
and he can't ignore it
and he sure can't stop it
and he doesn't want to try
so Hemingway cries
and Hemingway lies
and then,
perhaps,
to no mans surprise,
Hemingway
aims
his
gun
to
the
sky.
Hemingway sits
in his blank old apartment
graying with age
Hemingway quits
Hemingway stands
with a fine old shotgun
he hunted with once
in Hemingway's hands
Hemingway cries
like he said he never would
because he can't accept it
and he can't reject it
and he can't ignore it
and he sure can't stop it
and he doesn't want to try
so Hemingway cries
and Hemingway lies
and then,
perhaps,
to no mans surprise,
Hemingway
aims
his
gun
to
the
sky.
Freud Wants You To Sleep With Your Mother (2008)
Sigmund, you sick son of a bitch,
I know how you'd have liked it to turn out
but somewhere off in the land of do-as-you-please
Oedipus and Miranda are mackin' it
And you can listen all night for that “who's your daddy”
but I'll tell you right now that
once you get inside those rattling skulls
ain't nobody there
but them.
I know how you'd have liked it to turn out
but somewhere off in the land of do-as-you-please
Oedipus and Miranda are mackin' it
And you can listen all night for that “who's your daddy”
but I'll tell you right now that
once you get inside those rattling skulls
ain't nobody there
but them.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
On Not Attending A Funeral (2006)
I don’t know if you’re lingering
inside us now today
at least the thoughts of you are there
that made you in some ways
and so I take a walk outside
to let you see the world again
before I faithfully inscribe
a verse or two, that you might hide
within the words left by my pen
and if the verse is clever
then you might live forever
inside this document.
Amen.
inside us now today
at least the thoughts of you are there
that made you in some ways
and so I take a walk outside
to let you see the world again
before I faithfully inscribe
a verse or two, that you might hide
within the words left by my pen
and if the verse is clever
then you might live forever
inside this document.
Amen.
When My World Ends (2006)
When my world ends
I hope yours lingers 'round
and your once cheerful citizens
aren't torn by the sound
of the crack and the break
of their orbiting star
(a shining description
but well, there you are)
and while the gravity (ha!)
of your new situation
may have an effect
on the state of your nation
I ask you not to falter
and to your course stay true
but please accept what refugees
that I may send to you.
I hope yours lingers 'round
and your once cheerful citizens
aren't torn by the sound
of the crack and the break
of their orbiting star
(a shining description
but well, there you are)
and while the gravity (ha!)
of your new situation
may have an effect
on the state of your nation
I ask you not to falter
and to your course stay true
but please accept what refugees
that I may send to you.
Home is Where (2007)
"To Zanarkand!" she cried,
"To the Moon! To Parts Unknown!"
"To Home!" I responded,
and for a moment
it almost seemed like we agreed on something.
"To the Moon! To Parts Unknown!"
"To Home!" I responded,
and for a moment
it almost seemed like we agreed on something.
Love, you are not (2010)
Love, you are not -
as I have learned,
your affectations of affection
are mirror light from a dead star
the illusion of that which,
mistakes reversible,
might have lived.
It is no secret I have
kept you secret
for it seems daily my heart soars
into the tightening passage of my throat and my head nods
a passing hello
for years it has been thus – decades, eternities
a hundred times for everyone I pass we do this dance
a hundred times we pass
without incident
if you wonder if I would fall for you
then the answer is yes, if your voice fails you too
and yet if we are kindred, we cannot move
but to move away.
Love, you are not,
for a secret held is not a truth
my mind is meaningless, as are my lips
fingers
skin
breath
I have starved them from your company
murdered all that's left
but I know this to be so:
Such things live on in death.
as I have learned,
your affectations of affection
are mirror light from a dead star
the illusion of that which,
mistakes reversible,
might have lived.
It is no secret I have
kept you secret
for it seems daily my heart soars
into the tightening passage of my throat and my head nods
a passing hello
for years it has been thus – decades, eternities
a hundred times for everyone I pass we do this dance
a hundred times we pass
without incident
if you wonder if I would fall for you
then the answer is yes, if your voice fails you too
and yet if we are kindred, we cannot move
but to move away.
Love, you are not,
for a secret held is not a truth
my mind is meaningless, as are my lips
fingers
skin
breath
I have starved them from your company
murdered all that's left
but I know this to be so:
Such things live on in death.
Notebook Scribbles (2010)
At the end of the world I'll be writing
alone as always, penning the Great Novel
hoping it's what matters most
"Here I Am", I'll say to the dark,
and I'll rest easy knowing that even if
the pages burn to cinder, the words
are eternal. As they always have been.
My Love:
I must apologize.
The infinite potential of what you are
is marred only by my dreams
of the infinite people
you are not.
alone as always, penning the Great Novel
hoping it's what matters most
"Here I Am", I'll say to the dark,
and I'll rest easy knowing that even if
the pages burn to cinder, the words
are eternal. As they always have been.
My Love:
I must apologize.
The infinite potential of what you are
is marred only by my dreams
of the infinite people
you are not.
For The Last Time, This Is Not About Sex (2010)
I hate to say it this way,
but baby, let's make Love
something to keep us moving
when my pushes meet your shoves
we know the form and shape of it
we've heard the poets sing
we have the right connection
that just leaves one last thing
and I know I'm asking of you
what you never gave before
but put your heart and soul in mine
and I'll put mine in yours
and maybe there'll be something there
when we both hit the floor.
but baby, let's make Love
something to keep us moving
when my pushes meet your shoves
we know the form and shape of it
we've heard the poets sing
we have the right connection
that just leaves one last thing
and I know I'm asking of you
what you never gave before
but put your heart and soul in mine
and I'll put mine in yours
and maybe there'll be something there
when we both hit the floor.
Just Write (2010)
Let's write:
put on some music
close the door up tight
and just be ourselves
for a while
let's write
don't know where my fingers are
but there's words coming up on the page
and I'm certain they're mine today
let's write
of things falling apart
of things put together
of my love for you
of my love for my love for you
of the night outside our window
the people dancing on 2nd street
the music you don't know how to play
the girl in the window of the corner grocery
the awkward silence of us
that light just before the dawn hits
let's write the mountains
preserve them forever
quick, before they fall to the sea
let's write your face
hanging quietly on the wall
I'll bet it lasts
longer than the mountains
let's write something together
that wasn't there before
I'll send you a reason
you send me a rhyme
Maybe we just might
get it right this time.
put on some music
close the door up tight
and just be ourselves
for a while
let's write
don't know where my fingers are
but there's words coming up on the page
and I'm certain they're mine today
let's write
of things falling apart
of things put together
of my love for you
of my love for my love for you
of the night outside our window
the people dancing on 2nd street
the music you don't know how to play
the girl in the window of the corner grocery
the awkward silence of us
that light just before the dawn hits
let's write the mountains
preserve them forever
quick, before they fall to the sea
let's write your face
hanging quietly on the wall
I'll bet it lasts
longer than the mountains
let's write something together
that wasn't there before
I'll send you a reason
you send me a rhyme
Maybe we just might
get it right this time.
Chained Letters (2010)
To The Dead
I tried to write your song
but I didn't know the tune
I hope you sing it anyways
and I don't hear it soon.
To The Living
If you ever find the answer
I ask you, write it down!
For me it's all that's left of you
when you're lying in the ground.
I tried to write your song
but I didn't know the tune
I hope you sing it anyways
and I don't hear it soon.
To The Living
If you ever find the answer
I ask you, write it down!
For me it's all that's left of you
when you're lying in the ground.
Idealist (2010)
If I could build
my own little world
for me to live in
for you to live in
the sky
would always be that perfect blue
when the sun goes under the mountains
and everything glows with its own light
and the wind would be calm and cool and complete
unless you wanted it otherwise.
Our little world would be
little
small and flat and filled
with people that we know and love
people that we wish to be,
thinkers, dreamers, hopers, lovers,
writers, artists, doers, others,
and no Republicans allowed
unless you wanted it otherwise.
I’d build the world from feathers
and string
and song
I’d put everything where it belongs
And in the little world I made
sugar wouldn’t be unhealthy
hatred wouldn’t come so natural
living wouldn’t cease to change
everyone would be fully awake
fully alive
and dying wouldn’t happen
unless you wanted it otherwise.
When I think of the world that I’d create
that we’d create,
it lifts me to my feet
fills my ribs and bones
makes me feel I were a part of you
and you a part of me
but secretly
I hope
that you would never
want it otherwise.
my own little world
for me to live in
for you to live in
the sky
would always be that perfect blue
when the sun goes under the mountains
and everything glows with its own light
and the wind would be calm and cool and complete
unless you wanted it otherwise.
Our little world would be
little
small and flat and filled
with people that we know and love
people that we wish to be,
thinkers, dreamers, hopers, lovers,
writers, artists, doers, others,
and no Republicans allowed
unless you wanted it otherwise.
I’d build the world from feathers
and string
and song
I’d put everything where it belongs
And in the little world I made
sugar wouldn’t be unhealthy
hatred wouldn’t come so natural
living wouldn’t cease to change
everyone would be fully awake
fully alive
and dying wouldn’t happen
unless you wanted it otherwise.
When I think of the world that I’d create
that we’d create,
it lifts me to my feet
fills my ribs and bones
makes me feel I were a part of you
and you a part of me
but secretly
I hope
that you would never
want it otherwise.
Damaging the Powers of the Gods Through Vigorous Application of the Scientific Method (2010)
The Vietnamese believe
that Toad is uncle to the Sky,
watching sagely
over his favorite nieces shoulder
letting her know
when it's all right
to rain.
Americans believe
that if Toad urinates on us
we will grow warts.
Poets cannot ignore the truth:
it is with a heavy heart I must report
that one of these statements
has been proven false.
that Toad is uncle to the Sky,
watching sagely
over his favorite nieces shoulder
letting her know
when it's all right
to rain.
Americans believe
that if Toad urinates on us
we will grow warts.
Poets cannot ignore the truth:
it is with a heavy heart I must report
that one of these statements
has been proven false.
Gathering Storm Tribute (2010)
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass,
and come and pass, and come and pass again,
leaving memories that become legend.
Legend fades to myth, and myth is long forgotten
when the Age that gave it birth comes again -
for every Age is forged anew. And with each passing
new memories must be made, new legends penned. Eternity
is not finite. The world changes.
We change.
Mistakes are made. Darkness rises. Things come to an end -
often before we expect them to, often before they are
complete. Creation is not perfect. Perhaps it has no right to be.
But we strive for perfection. We strive because we are always changing,
because what we desire most might exist in our Age, or in the age we birth.
We strive because the alternative is despair, because the wheel could stop
turning at any moment and there are too many things in this
or any other age worth striving for. Love. Truth. Beauty.
We strive against the darkness because there is joy
in the Light. In the turning of the wheel.
Light in our memories. Light in our legends. Light in our myths.
Light in the darkness.
So the wheel turns.
So we turn with it.
So it was, is, and ever will be.
and come and pass, and come and pass again,
leaving memories that become legend.
Legend fades to myth, and myth is long forgotten
when the Age that gave it birth comes again -
for every Age is forged anew. And with each passing
new memories must be made, new legends penned. Eternity
is not finite. The world changes.
We change.
Mistakes are made. Darkness rises. Things come to an end -
often before we expect them to, often before they are
complete. Creation is not perfect. Perhaps it has no right to be.
But we strive for perfection. We strive because we are always changing,
because what we desire most might exist in our Age, or in the age we birth.
We strive because the alternative is despair, because the wheel could stop
turning at any moment and there are too many things in this
or any other age worth striving for. Love. Truth. Beauty.
We strive against the darkness because there is joy
in the Light. In the turning of the wheel.
Light in our memories. Light in our legends. Light in our myths.
Light in the darkness.
So the wheel turns.
So we turn with it.
So it was, is, and ever will be.
Unconditional (2010)
I'll kill every goddamned motherfucker who says that this crush
is something to be ashamed of so help me
there's no better feeling than
having stars in your eyes
up all night thinking about all the ways it could have happened
could still happen
but probably never will
six months after the fact and it hits me like a metric
ton of bricks
that she might have been the one
and I wish to god I had her number so I could call her every minute of every day and say
everything better
be who I want to be and know that's who she wants me to be
and I can't think that it's creepy that I'd defend her name to the death
because if it's wrong to want so much from so many
no one will ever be right
is something to be ashamed of so help me
there's no better feeling than
having stars in your eyes
up all night thinking about all the ways it could have happened
could still happen
but probably never will
six months after the fact and it hits me like a metric
ton of bricks
that she might have been the one
and I wish to god I had her number so I could call her every minute of every day and say
everything better
be who I want to be and know that's who she wants me to be
and I can't think that it's creepy that I'd defend her name to the death
because if it's wrong to want so much from so many
no one will ever be right
Shortcut Through Cemetary (2009)
Suns falling below and storms are
coming - light on half sky,
black clouds on other. Summer rain
meets heat of same - damp.
Cool. The Earth is in balance.
We pay respects by leaving
flowers and candles in endless green
then scurry before it gets to
now - empty and quiet.
Sacred ground.
I am Infidel or child of god
treading here this hour
wondering at his (pantheistic) grace
I believe nothing but still am
humbled in my respect.
No watching eye - no reason
to not feel joy
to not run down sprinkler-soaked path
to not live
amidst remains of poems lost
I wish you here (who are you?)
fingers intertwined
laughing as I laugh
seeing as I see
running here with me
But should you not
(and maybe I'm no solid friend,
perhaps I'm merely just pretend)
Still I ask this: find yourself a place
a book, a tune, a sky, a face
find something that you fully comprehend
or meet me here in evening once again.
coming - light on half sky,
black clouds on other. Summer rain
meets heat of same - damp.
Cool. The Earth is in balance.
We pay respects by leaving
flowers and candles in endless green
then scurry before it gets to
now - empty and quiet.
Sacred ground.
I am Infidel or child of god
treading here this hour
wondering at his (pantheistic) grace
I believe nothing but still am
humbled in my respect.
No watching eye - no reason
to not feel joy
to not run down sprinkler-soaked path
to not live
amidst remains of poems lost
I wish you here (who are you?)
fingers intertwined
laughing as I laugh
seeing as I see
running here with me
But should you not
(and maybe I'm no solid friend,
perhaps I'm merely just pretend)
Still I ask this: find yourself a place
a book, a tune, a sky, a face
find something that you fully comprehend
or meet me here in evening once again.
Virgin's Battlesong (2009)
Let’s put aside the lascivious pear for a moment
because I’m terrified that this new world is
as boring and unsympathetic as the last,
or worse: that it is as true as it feels
and you might see me as what I really am
not the part I wish to play with you
of tongue and pen, the former
writes upon your form less delicately
than the latter
my hands shake like a cage-rattle
when I try to be free with myself
my mind dances with yours but my body
does not know how to step with grace
I know romance, know adoration,
would think that I know love with you
would think my words are yours
and yours are mine
but I cannot see the letters
intertwined.
Beauty sleeps because she never stopped biting the apple.
Prince Charming is a fairy tale until the book ends.
Happily Ever After is the cheaters way out of a story.
because I’m terrified that this new world is
as boring and unsympathetic as the last,
or worse: that it is as true as it feels
and you might see me as what I really am
not the part I wish to play with you
of tongue and pen, the former
writes upon your form less delicately
than the latter
my hands shake like a cage-rattle
when I try to be free with myself
my mind dances with yours but my body
does not know how to step with grace
I know romance, know adoration,
would think that I know love with you
would think my words are yours
and yours are mine
but I cannot see the letters
intertwined.
Beauty sleeps because she never stopped biting the apple.
Prince Charming is a fairy tale until the book ends.
Happily Ever After is the cheaters way out of a story.
Deism (2009)
Your temptress form from down below
your face from up above
seems God can't give me anything,
now you're the one I love.
your face from up above
seems God can't give me anything,
now you're the one I love.
Crazy (2009)
We're crazy, crazy for being who we are, crazy for doing what we do, crazy for the thinking the sky is friendly just because it's warm and blue, crazy for letting me tell our son: i'm sure i've spent better seed in hand than i've ever spent on you. We're crazy because we thought it might be true. We're crazier than we ever dreamed we could be, saying that our imaginations have dwindled with age when really it's just the preventative scent of hellfire wafting through every erotic fantasy sloshing against our skulls searching for a way out – life or after, it doesn't matter where we get our brimstone but we're sure to breath deep soon if our tongues or fingers or buckles slip loose in the wrong place at the wrong time. And we're crazy enough not to care, because we're crazy beautiful, crazy in love, crazy on the streets, crazy in the backseat of your mothers car, crazy for not stopping though the police are tap tap tapping on the window. We're so goddamn crazy it eats us up inside from the head down to the stomach up to the heart, down to other parts. We're crazy for what we made, what we conceived, who we laid. We're crazy because we were once sane, long enough to make crazy again. We're crazy because we know it will all work out in the end. We're crazy enough to jump, crazy enough to fly, crazy enough to fall, crazy enough to die. We're so crazy I'm in awe of everything we try. We're crazy and I don't know why. We're crazy together – you and I.
Untitled (2009)
How fire dies in a dreamers heart!
Creations flame but a desperate spark
lives lived an instant in a world resigned
to eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.
Creations flame but a desperate spark
lives lived an instant in a world resigned
to eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.
Beat Poet (2009)
I'd like to be a
beat poet
use the line break as a weapon
to pierce that stoic glare
we wear
each day
show you the jolt of a heart
leaping
to meet you
I'd like to be a
beat poet
stumbling
over my lines like a pro
unafraid of the
fall
unafraid of it all
I'd like to be a beat
poet
rhythm and rhyme and no reason
a broken metronome
ticking
the way all broken things should
the way
I'd
hoped
we would
beat poet
use the line break as a weapon
to pierce that stoic glare
we wear
each day
show you the jolt of a heart
leaping
to meet you
I'd like to be a
beat poet
stumbling
over my lines like a pro
unafraid of the
fall
unafraid of it all
I'd like to be a beat
poet
rhythm and rhyme and no reason
a broken metronome
ticking
the way all broken things should
the way
I'd
hoped
we would
Twenty-Three (2009)
Twenty-Three
I have never spilt my heart across the table where you are
thrown caution to the wind, let you know that I am waiting
I have never sung your beauty in a crowded hall
shouted “To the world: Can you not see? There is no other.”
I have never left the sanctum of my solitary self
broken from this shell and found meaning in your meaning
Never stayed my gaze
when you looked back
Never stood my ground
when I attacked
I have never left a note upon your door
or whispered softly in your ear as I passed by
I have never touched you as I wanted to
tasted skin, breathed deeply of your breath
I have never shared a moment that was yours
Nor slept and dreamt a dream beside your dreaming head
Never stayed a shadow
in the light
never showed you shelter
through the night
I have been who I am, and I lived as I have lived,
Feel no sorrow for myself, though I have regrets to give
I have written you these words
and I know that you you will see
that while I am my own world
you could mean
the world
to me.
I have never spilt my heart across the table where you are
thrown caution to the wind, let you know that I am waiting
I have never sung your beauty in a crowded hall
shouted “To the world: Can you not see? There is no other.”
I have never left the sanctum of my solitary self
broken from this shell and found meaning in your meaning
Never stayed my gaze
when you looked back
Never stood my ground
when I attacked
I have never left a note upon your door
or whispered softly in your ear as I passed by
I have never touched you as I wanted to
tasted skin, breathed deeply of your breath
I have never shared a moment that was yours
Nor slept and dreamt a dream beside your dreaming head
Never stayed a shadow
in the light
never showed you shelter
through the night
I have been who I am, and I lived as I have lived,
Feel no sorrow for myself, though I have regrets to give
I have written you these words
and I know that you you will see
that while I am my own world
you could mean
the world
to me.
Silence (2009)
I know what you're thinking, and I ask you to please just let me explain. It will only take a moment, and yes, maybe there is something wrong with me, but... hear me out.
I learned early on that Life ends when grade school begins. Up until that point, you're a being of infinite creativity – you have the potential to be anything, to do anything. You're not a member of society, you're your own unique person. Then you turn six or so and they round you up and put you in a box with a hundred other people “just like you” and they teach you how to be what they want you to be. You learn how to be the governmental definition of a person, and to hell with everything else. But it's not just the stuff they teach you that does you in. It's how they teach you. It's the cycles.
This is how we stop being people – when we start accepting the loops. Doing the same thing every day. Putting the same seven days in a week. Same twelve months in a year. At the worst, you stop for a nap, stop for a break, stop for a summer, before coming back and doing it all again. Over and over and over until the very thought of doing it any other way is extinguished from our minds. Suddenly we have to repeat things. Suddenly there's no such thing as the word “new”. And this is how we die inside. It's legally required suicide.
I knew this, but I couldn't avoid it any better than anyone else. I had to go to school just like everyone had to go, and I had to show up again and again until I turned of an age where I was numb and until that time had passed the only thing that kept me going were the lies. Fictions. Fantasy. Up until middle school ended, I read a thousand books and watched a thousand movies and I played games and simulations until my eyes bled because that was the only way to escape the world that everyone was so determined I would be living in. Because they held that hint of what it was to be really alive.
But in the end even that couldn't sustain me, because again there were those accursed patterns. Everyone was living the same life and so they were sick of it in the same ways and no one understood how to get out, because even the worlds they created were similar and there were all these rules that they had to follow in order to get their art out to the people that needed them and that in itself destroyed their meaning, eliminated that spark that made them more real than the rest of us. Their stories just couldn't sustain me anymore. So I stopped. I gave up. I gave in. I died.
And I was normal until I met her. She was the type of girl who could just blow my mind right out of my skull without a moments notice, this insane, ridiculously optimistic wisp of a thespian, and because she asked me to I went to see her in this play she was in. For all my love of the modern story I'd never been in a theater before, but they had a good script and a fine play and she was an excellent actress so it was all pretty amazing and I was more awake than I had been for ages when I first heard the silence and everything changed forever.
Theater is not that different from any other form of lying that I have endorsed, but there is one thing about it that no other medium has and that is this: in an especially dramatic play, there is a certain point where the energy that has built up in the room has built to a boiling point, and suddenly in the heat of that moment the actors toss their pretend emotions out onto the stage in some powerful exclamation that renders the world speechless. Everyone on the stage becomes suddenly silent, and everyone in the audience holds their breath.
They are holding their breath because suddenly the actors are not actors at all, but almost people. They are almost real people, and the stage around them is almost a real place, and if you look closely you can actually see their phony props acquiring color and depth, just as you can see the real emotion in the eyes of the men and women who have suddenly been brought into this world. Something extraordinary has happened, something that we could only conceive of in fantasies, but everyone knows that this time it is true and they are held still in the rapture of it and you can hear absolutely no noise in a theater crowded with living organisms, all of whom believe in what is on the stage because it is real. And then (and only then) am I real as well, am I as alive as those people on the stage.
I am certain that if we could merely hold that silence, then the transformation would be permanent. The world could be different from what it is now. But I have been attending plays for years after my death and hers, and if there is one other thing that is true about theater it is that there is always, always someone in the room who can't handle the world not being what it was before. They can't live in a world where things don't happen in loops, where the routine and the routine of the routine are broken. They can't be alive for more than moments at a time. And so they shift in their seats, or cough, or stick their hand in a snack, or whisper to their friend in the seat next to them, anything they can do just to break the silence. That beautiful silence!
And for the longest time I could not figure out why, why every time the lie was on the verge of becoming truth that they did this, until I finally realized that it is these people, these dreadful, unoriginal drones, these zombies with beating hearts, who were responsible for it all. These are the people who hold us down, who chain us to the world of the routine with their petty defiance of the impossible.
Those are the people you see here, in this theater I've found for you. As you can see, they're quite incapable of making such noises now. You'll have to pardon the smell - it's taken a long time to collect them all. And I know, I know it's all so very strange, and I know you're scared, and I know it's certainly not what you were planning for tonight, but... but if you could just stand up and do this piece with me, and together we can reach that silence and then – who knows? Maybe they'll be alive for the first time too.
I learned early on that Life ends when grade school begins. Up until that point, you're a being of infinite creativity – you have the potential to be anything, to do anything. You're not a member of society, you're your own unique person. Then you turn six or so and they round you up and put you in a box with a hundred other people “just like you” and they teach you how to be what they want you to be. You learn how to be the governmental definition of a person, and to hell with everything else. But it's not just the stuff they teach you that does you in. It's how they teach you. It's the cycles.
This is how we stop being people – when we start accepting the loops. Doing the same thing every day. Putting the same seven days in a week. Same twelve months in a year. At the worst, you stop for a nap, stop for a break, stop for a summer, before coming back and doing it all again. Over and over and over until the very thought of doing it any other way is extinguished from our minds. Suddenly we have to repeat things. Suddenly there's no such thing as the word “new”. And this is how we die inside. It's legally required suicide.
I knew this, but I couldn't avoid it any better than anyone else. I had to go to school just like everyone had to go, and I had to show up again and again until I turned of an age where I was numb and until that time had passed the only thing that kept me going were the lies. Fictions. Fantasy. Up until middle school ended, I read a thousand books and watched a thousand movies and I played games and simulations until my eyes bled because that was the only way to escape the world that everyone was so determined I would be living in. Because they held that hint of what it was to be really alive.
But in the end even that couldn't sustain me, because again there were those accursed patterns. Everyone was living the same life and so they were sick of it in the same ways and no one understood how to get out, because even the worlds they created were similar and there were all these rules that they had to follow in order to get their art out to the people that needed them and that in itself destroyed their meaning, eliminated that spark that made them more real than the rest of us. Their stories just couldn't sustain me anymore. So I stopped. I gave up. I gave in. I died.
And I was normal until I met her. She was the type of girl who could just blow my mind right out of my skull without a moments notice, this insane, ridiculously optimistic wisp of a thespian, and because she asked me to I went to see her in this play she was in. For all my love of the modern story I'd never been in a theater before, but they had a good script and a fine play and she was an excellent actress so it was all pretty amazing and I was more awake than I had been for ages when I first heard the silence and everything changed forever.
Theater is not that different from any other form of lying that I have endorsed, but there is one thing about it that no other medium has and that is this: in an especially dramatic play, there is a certain point where the energy that has built up in the room has built to a boiling point, and suddenly in the heat of that moment the actors toss their pretend emotions out onto the stage in some powerful exclamation that renders the world speechless. Everyone on the stage becomes suddenly silent, and everyone in the audience holds their breath.
They are holding their breath because suddenly the actors are not actors at all, but almost people. They are almost real people, and the stage around them is almost a real place, and if you look closely you can actually see their phony props acquiring color and depth, just as you can see the real emotion in the eyes of the men and women who have suddenly been brought into this world. Something extraordinary has happened, something that we could only conceive of in fantasies, but everyone knows that this time it is true and they are held still in the rapture of it and you can hear absolutely no noise in a theater crowded with living organisms, all of whom believe in what is on the stage because it is real. And then (and only then) am I real as well, am I as alive as those people on the stage.
I am certain that if we could merely hold that silence, then the transformation would be permanent. The world could be different from what it is now. But I have been attending plays for years after my death and hers, and if there is one other thing that is true about theater it is that there is always, always someone in the room who can't handle the world not being what it was before. They can't live in a world where things don't happen in loops, where the routine and the routine of the routine are broken. They can't be alive for more than moments at a time. And so they shift in their seats, or cough, or stick their hand in a snack, or whisper to their friend in the seat next to them, anything they can do just to break the silence. That beautiful silence!
And for the longest time I could not figure out why, why every time the lie was on the verge of becoming truth that they did this, until I finally realized that it is these people, these dreadful, unoriginal drones, these zombies with beating hearts, who were responsible for it all. These are the people who hold us down, who chain us to the world of the routine with their petty defiance of the impossible.
Those are the people you see here, in this theater I've found for you. As you can see, they're quite incapable of making such noises now. You'll have to pardon the smell - it's taken a long time to collect them all. And I know, I know it's all so very strange, and I know you're scared, and I know it's certainly not what you were planning for tonight, but... but if you could just stand up and do this piece with me, and together we can reach that silence and then – who knows? Maybe they'll be alive for the first time too.
Dead Presidents (2009)
There is but one reliance...
Good morning, Robert.
Is it the fourth?
Oh yes; it is the glorious fourth of July. It is a great day. It is a good day. god bless it. god bless you all.
I am about to die. I expect the summons very soon. I have tried to discharge all my duties faithfully.
Doctor, I am going.
I am just going.
We are all going.
Have me decently buried and do not let my body be into a vault in less than two days after I am dead. Do you understand me? 'Tis well.
I know that I am going where Lucy is.
We are all going, we are all going, we are all going. Oh, dear.
I love you, Sarah. For all eternity, I love you.
Edith. I am a broken machine, but I am ready.
Send Mike immediately!
Oh Swaim, there is a pain here. Swaim, can't you stop this? Oh, oh, Swaim!
I've always loved my wife, my children, and my grandchildren...
That's good. Read some more.
I have a terrific headache.
That's very obvious.
Water.
The nourishment is palatable.
It doesn't really matter.
Are the doctors here? Doctor...my lungs.
...and I've always loved my country.
Oh, don't cry.
I hope to meet you all in Heaven.
Perhaps it is best.
Be good children and I'll meet you all in Heaven.
It's God's way. His will be done, not ours. Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee.
I want to go. God, take me.
Oh Lord God Almighty, as thou wilt.
I resign my spirit to God, my daughter to my country.
Nothing more than a change of mind, my dear. I always talk better lying down.
Be good children, all of you, and strive to be ready when the change comes.
I wish you to understand the true principles of government. I wish them carried out. I ask nothing more.
I have tried so hard to do right.
Whatever the result may be, I shall carry to my grave the consciousness that at least I meant well for my country.
I regret nothing, but I am sorry that I am about to leave my friends.
This is the last of Earth. I am content.
Please, put out the light.
Good morning, Robert.
Is it the fourth?
Oh yes; it is the glorious fourth of July. It is a great day. It is a good day. god bless it. god bless you all.
I am about to die. I expect the summons very soon. I have tried to discharge all my duties faithfully.
Doctor, I am going.
I am just going.
We are all going.
Have me decently buried and do not let my body be into a vault in less than two days after I am dead. Do you understand me? 'Tis well.
I know that I am going where Lucy is.
We are all going, we are all going, we are all going. Oh, dear.
I love you, Sarah. For all eternity, I love you.
Edith. I am a broken machine, but I am ready.
Send Mike immediately!
Oh Swaim, there is a pain here. Swaim, can't you stop this? Oh, oh, Swaim!
I've always loved my wife, my children, and my grandchildren...
That's good. Read some more.
I have a terrific headache.
That's very obvious.
Water.
The nourishment is palatable.
It doesn't really matter.
Are the doctors here? Doctor...my lungs.
...and I've always loved my country.
Oh, don't cry.
I hope to meet you all in Heaven.
Perhaps it is best.
Be good children and I'll meet you all in Heaven.
It's God's way. His will be done, not ours. Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee.
I want to go. God, take me.
Oh Lord God Almighty, as thou wilt.
I resign my spirit to God, my daughter to my country.
Nothing more than a change of mind, my dear. I always talk better lying down.
Be good children, all of you, and strive to be ready when the change comes.
I wish you to understand the true principles of government. I wish them carried out. I ask nothing more.
I have tried so hard to do right.
Whatever the result may be, I shall carry to my grave the consciousness that at least I meant well for my country.
I regret nothing, but I am sorry that I am about to leave my friends.
This is the last of Earth. I am content.
Please, put out the light.
Hopeless. Romantic. (2009)
Here is the world
perfect as she is
well, almost, anyways
a little touch there
a verse or two here
to stay
and now
my contribution is done
although,
I suppose,
we could paint a new mural
you and I
starting
at this spot
ending
wherever you'd like it to stop.
Here, I'll sing a song for you
while we place our brush
to canvas
and maybe - no,
I ask too much,
but maybe we could stop
for a while
in between
and press our hands together
in a way they've never seen
before
show the world a thing
or two
about love
(like she knew it all
in the first place - ha!
fat chance, I'd say
I can see it in her smile
that wise
naivete)
and that painting stretches on
and my song,
there is no
coda
and this verse,
well,
it's done,
but I could maybe
add a line or two
if you asked me to
about your eyes
and how they are
forever
if you want them to be
if you want that
for you
and me
perfect as she is
well, almost, anyways
a little touch there
a verse or two here
to stay
and now
my contribution is done
although,
I suppose,
we could paint a new mural
you and I
starting
at this spot
ending
wherever you'd like it to stop.
Here, I'll sing a song for you
while we place our brush
to canvas
and maybe - no,
I ask too much,
but maybe we could stop
for a while
in between
and press our hands together
in a way they've never seen
before
show the world a thing
or two
about love
(like she knew it all
in the first place - ha!
fat chance, I'd say
I can see it in her smile
that wise
naivete)
and that painting stretches on
and my song,
there is no
coda
and this verse,
well,
it's done,
but I could maybe
add a line or two
if you asked me to
about your eyes
and how they are
forever
if you want them to be
if you want that
for you
and me
The Limit (2009)
He said, "The sky's the limit!" and I couldn't help but laugh
because that was what she told me when we first met
and when she left, it was "your head is in the clouds."
I left different notes every day
in little places she might look if she dared:
carved into the park bench where we first kissed
tiny chalk marks on the steps of where we lived
in grafitti on the chapel tower, where the world is smaller
and the people, bigger.
I gave one to a man to hold if he ever saw her
-he tucked it in his wallet, smiling at young love-
and threw another (bottled tight) into the ocean,
although we both live in Wyoming and
I suppose that's not quite how that works.
I'll leave my last today
on the sticky side of a post-it note
clinging to the roof of her office, obnoxious pink
waiting for her to peel away the words:
"Sarah: The sky is no limit."
because that was what she told me when we first met
and when she left, it was "your head is in the clouds."
I left different notes every day
in little places she might look if she dared:
carved into the park bench where we first kissed
tiny chalk marks on the steps of where we lived
in grafitti on the chapel tower, where the world is smaller
and the people, bigger.
I gave one to a man to hold if he ever saw her
-he tucked it in his wallet, smiling at young love-
and threw another (bottled tight) into the ocean,
although we both live in Wyoming and
I suppose that's not quite how that works.
I'll leave my last today
on the sticky side of a post-it note
clinging to the roof of her office, obnoxious pink
waiting for her to peel away the words:
"Sarah: The sky is no limit."
Montana Winter (2009)
I'm miserable -
took four hours before I could type again
two layers of mittens, didn't help a bit
the wind is slowly tearing my face away
hunting for tears to freeze, a game between us
fell off my bike
downhill slide
heavy traffic
nearly died
but oh! That sweet air,
cold pure water from a glass bottle
with every waking breath,
reminding me of what we lost
when industry came to town.
took four hours before I could type again
two layers of mittens, didn't help a bit
the wind is slowly tearing my face away
hunting for tears to freeze, a game between us
fell off my bike
downhill slide
heavy traffic
nearly died
but oh! That sweet air,
cold pure water from a glass bottle
with every waking breath,
reminding me of what we lost
when industry came to town.
Sunglasses over Baby Blues (2009) (Stole off Dev's Short Story)
Sheryl
wears sunglasses
over baby blues
Sheryl
wears black leather
over navy hues
Sheryl
wears a sports cap
over white-blonde curls
Sheryl
wears the woman
over that sweet girl
Someday
Sheryl knows
she'll rule the world
wears sunglasses
over baby blues
Sheryl
wears black leather
over navy hues
Sheryl
wears a sports cap
over white-blonde curls
Sheryl
wears the woman
over that sweet girl
Someday
Sheryl knows
she'll rule the world
Anthropomorphism (2009)
Anthropomorphism
Trees advice to man: plant roots and drink,
bask when the sun comes,
live slow.
Give yourself the quiet life any day,
life is in
the living, so stay and
grow strong,
weather the storms,
stand for an eternity.
Man's advice to tree: go fuck yourself
(however that would work)
the sun's not as healthy as it seems,
we're all dying fast and it's up to us
to make the most of it.
Change is everything
nothing lasts but the truth
meaning is what you make
when you have everything else to lose.
Trees advice to man: plant roots and drink,
bask when the sun comes,
live slow.
Give yourself the quiet life any day,
life is in
the living, so stay and
grow strong,
weather the storms,
stand for an eternity.
Man's advice to tree: go fuck yourself
(however that would work)
the sun's not as healthy as it seems,
we're all dying fast and it's up to us
to make the most of it.
Change is everything
nothing lasts but the truth
meaning is what you make
when you have everything else to lose.
Heart and Sole (2009)
Girl at party in pretty pink dress and
eight inch stilleto heel boots
feet straight like a ballerina under the hem
which rises - a stage curtain - as she clenches it
knuckles white
to show the lock above her ankle
she's staring at me with those green eyes
tear on her cheek just so
smiling
I want to lift her up and
carry her away
as a groom takes his bride across the threshold
to safety
I want to give a little bow and
offer my hand – the perfect gentleman
with cruel eyes and a sharp grin:
“May I have this dance?”
Instead I smile back and
hug her close like an old friend
my head on her shoulder
whispering softly in her ear:
“Who hasn't walked a mile
in your shoes?”
eight inch stilleto heel boots
feet straight like a ballerina under the hem
which rises - a stage curtain - as she clenches it
knuckles white
to show the lock above her ankle
she's staring at me with those green eyes
tear on her cheek just so
smiling
I want to lift her up and
carry her away
as a groom takes his bride across the threshold
to safety
I want to give a little bow and
offer my hand – the perfect gentleman
with cruel eyes and a sharp grin:
“May I have this dance?”
Instead I smile back and
hug her close like an old friend
my head on her shoulder
whispering softly in her ear:
“Who hasn't walked a mile
in your shoes?”
No more (2008)
There is no more truth in these words
written by numb hands
they fall on deaf minds
I have lost the meaning of this language
I consign it to the abyss
and henceforth, stalk the world in silence.
I need no words to live
When I am happy, I will laugh
When I am sad, I will cry
When I am in love, I will kiss you
touch you
where you need
The greatest poem I could write could not describe
what it is to press my body against yours
what it is to do
what I have never done before
There is no proper rhyming scheme
no neat metaphor
My love for you is
a hundred red roses
thorns and all
carried to your door.
My love for you is what comes after
not before.
written by numb hands
they fall on deaf minds
I have lost the meaning of this language
I consign it to the abyss
and henceforth, stalk the world in silence.
I need no words to live
When I am happy, I will laugh
When I am sad, I will cry
When I am in love, I will kiss you
touch you
where you need
The greatest poem I could write could not describe
what it is to press my body against yours
what it is to do
what I have never done before
There is no proper rhyming scheme
no neat metaphor
My love for you is
a hundred red roses
thorns and all
carried to your door.
My love for you is what comes after
not before.
Vernonite (2008)
Olympia! My love
your passion for writing is matched only
by your passion
for passion
for not thinking before you write
for never having to apologize
You demand nothing
but perfection
and are certain you have achieved it
Why else, after all
could your path be the only path?
Surely your students
would be lost in the woods without you
Surely some of them
already are
here's one, in particular
studiously analyzing the path you've shown him
looking before he leaps
wondering aloud whether there might be
another way
stepping as though you might
lead him over a cliff
stepping in the wrong direction
stepping on your toes
stepping backwards
stepping sideways
stepping into the woods
the direction he takes
may not lead him where you go.
And where you go
is where everyone wants to be,
isn't it?
Except
for that voice
angrily dissenting
except
for that voice
firmly refusing to follow
he says he can map a course
through these woods
he says there's another way
through these woods
he's saying he'd rather stay
in these woods
he's saying he rather prefers
these woods
to the path you're beating
to the road less traveled
(which seems to be traveled more and more these days)
to your destination
to any destination
that you can see
She sees you when you're sleeping
she knows when you're awake
and if you write something bad about her
you've made a big mistake.
your passion for writing is matched only
by your passion
for passion
for not thinking before you write
for never having to apologize
You demand nothing
but perfection
and are certain you have achieved it
Why else, after all
could your path be the only path?
Surely your students
would be lost in the woods without you
Surely some of them
already are
here's one, in particular
studiously analyzing the path you've shown him
looking before he leaps
wondering aloud whether there might be
another way
stepping as though you might
lead him over a cliff
stepping in the wrong direction
stepping on your toes
stepping backwards
stepping sideways
stepping into the woods
the direction he takes
may not lead him where you go.
And where you go
is where everyone wants to be,
isn't it?
Except
for that voice
angrily dissenting
except
for that voice
firmly refusing to follow
he says he can map a course
through these woods
he says there's another way
through these woods
he's saying he'd rather stay
in these woods
he's saying he rather prefers
these woods
to the path you're beating
to the road less traveled
(which seems to be traveled more and more these days)
to your destination
to any destination
that you can see
She sees you when you're sleeping
she knows when you're awake
and if you write something bad about her
you've made a big mistake.
Riddle (2008)
I wrote for you a riddle, here
in the pages of my manuscript
but the answer didn't seem quite clear
and then the question gradually slipped
into a jumbled conversation
over a pair of warring nations
but suddenly your voice was there
preventing bombs from touching air
and what was once a history
with insights most profound
became a tale of you and me
making the world go round.
in the pages of my manuscript
but the answer didn't seem quite clear
and then the question gradually slipped
into a jumbled conversation
over a pair of warring nations
but suddenly your voice was there
preventing bombs from touching air
and what was once a history
with insights most profound
became a tale of you and me
making the world go round.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Lightbringers
Kellen Danvers had only one thing of any personal nature in his office and it was this: a photograph of the world at night, hundreds of thousands of little lights defining every populated area of the world. He'd never been the sort to moralize, but when people asked him to think about things in black and white he thought about the map. It wasn't that the dots of white that spread across the borders of the continents were good or evil in Danvers mind. It was just that they were. It was the nature of humankind to spread light in dark places and whatever else there was to it, that was what mattered most to him.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
No Pressure
This is the most
this is the most important
this is the most important thing that you will ever do.
This is the most important thing that you will ever do I am telling you right now.
I am telling you right now that this is the most important thing that you will ever do
and right now you are going to do it. Now. This is the most important thing you will ever do and you are going to do it now and I am telling you, telling you so you will know.
So you will know that this is
the most important thing.
the MOST important thing.
The most important thing.
This is the most important thing you will ever do and so help me god you are going to do it so help me so help me so help me god because this is the most important thing this is the most important thing this IS the most important thing and you are going to do it now you are going to do it now now you are going to do it I am telling you because if you don't do it (the most important thing) then the world isn't going to get better it's not going to get better because of the most important thing when you don't do it. And it's you. It's you.
It has to be you.
this is the most important
this is the most important thing that you will ever do.
This is the most important thing that you will ever do I am telling you right now.
I am telling you right now that this is the most important thing that you will ever do
and right now you are going to do it. Now. This is the most important thing you will ever do and you are going to do it now and I am telling you, telling you so you will know.
So you will know that this is
the most important thing.
the MOST important thing.
The most important thing.
This is the most important thing you will ever do and so help me god you are going to do it so help me so help me so help me god because this is the most important thing this is the most important thing this IS the most important thing and you are going to do it now you are going to do it now now you are going to do it I am telling you because if you don't do it (the most important thing) then the world isn't going to get better it's not going to get better because of the most important thing when you don't do it. And it's you. It's you.
It has to be you.
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