Thursday, November 25, 2010

Part 1

I'm wide awake to the glistening moment. We're given two spoonfuls of medicine. One is blue and contains all the cold solitude in the lovely world. The other is gold and guarantees you pain and connection to existence. So you nibble on the blue and then wish it well, seduced and perfected by it's silence, but already bored to death by it's vacancy. Next comes something for which you had no preperation, your impulses blaring from the massive gulp of gold. You're now inside the rushing train. And the bodies pack against one another like Tokyo rush hour or Indian panic. And your body is contorted by the crowds until it's not your own. But you recognize yourself somewhere else serene, even as you're experiencing the press of madness and the deluges of terror. Body to body. Wall to wall. Nose pressed to window until it bleeds red. The tears slide down the glass and thin the color. The sun is burning warmly on your panicked face and the landscape outside is enough to give some sliver of hope. All is not lost. All is not lost in this pain. All is not lost in this guttural agony and interrupted living.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Some Assembly Required

The swell fades. The lion eats it's prey. I was young once but now I'm washed away. I struggled to stay awake while the calm flooded my brain. I dreamed of bright lights, low windows, and a kitchen knife. I was riding a shared river of invasive current finding that my only salvation was action. Down into the layers I delved for a pearl of forbearance, a ticket to ride. The day begins cold. The sweat remains. An archaic reptilian brain meeting the demands of the devices to which it is enslaved. The computer. The stove. The toilet. The trash can rolled out to the street. The newspaper slamming the door. The front page promising grim while I live vicariously through the sports section.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Everywhere in Particular

Today I walked down the street, a hobble in my stride. A gnawing in my physical side. A man was working on an old car. The same one he's been working on for twenty-five years. I talked to him. Then an animal control officer and I spoke at length. She had crawled under a house to save a dog. Then there was that fucking Wine-O again. He's always there on the vacant days. I wonder if he knew how attentively the sun was following my skin as he sang his song. I wonder if that lady was joking about flying a helicopter to Mar Vista. I saw some airplanes and shot them down with my two fingers. Same with the Wine-O. I shot him his best wishes. Later, I thought about two people meeting on one of those airplanes. It was nothing original, as I speculated about what the young woman driving by me was doing to busy her mind in her black car. Before that, I had walked past my old friend's house and wondered if she and her sister still lived there and the sun kept following me.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

There Is A Soul

Thursday, November 4, 2010