Sometimes it is what goes unfinished in life that brings the most incredible joy and the deepest of sorrows.
How is an author to compose through the most intense writer's block to date?
Answer - Make it up.
Fiction, afterall, is a genre too.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Lost Settlement
Cement steps are more brittle
On the southern side of Oak Street.
Denim against pasty skin,
Icy even in late summer sunsets.
You know how it feels when you put your clothes on too early,
That “cling and stick” because you’re still wet?
You see, everything is cooler here
In this broke down place.
They’ll mark your tomb with historic curlicues.
“Here laid one warm body.”
Everyone lives to die here,
In this middle finger of land.
We don’t pay for movies,
But waste around the back door,
Communing together – with broken pavement,
Crackle scratch of dead leaves.
We burn on with tapped cigarette
While paper curls and chill ash falls to stone.
We all smoke when we’re drinking.
Honestly, we smoke all the time.
Buzzed hard as the sun drops,
We forget – we forget – about the money
We all don’t have.
There’s not much work,
But lots of labors,
In this town.
That’s okay with us.
Dragging, drinking, puffing;
Bound together in one smoke ring,
Waiting to die.
Years from now, when they scroll up our tombstones,
Children will honor the cracks in the cement
Arms linked in the haze and scratch of leaves,
Clinging to the chilled bones of this town.
On the southern side of Oak Street.
Denim against pasty skin,
Icy even in late summer sunsets.
You know how it feels when you put your clothes on too early,
That “cling and stick” because you’re still wet?
You see, everything is cooler here
In this broke down place.
They’ll mark your tomb with historic curlicues.
“Here laid one warm body.”
Everyone lives to die here,
In this middle finger of land.
We don’t pay for movies,
But waste around the back door,
Communing together – with broken pavement,
Crackle scratch of dead leaves.
We burn on with tapped cigarette
While paper curls and chill ash falls to stone.
We all smoke when we’re drinking.
Honestly, we smoke all the time.
Buzzed hard as the sun drops,
We forget – we forget – about the money
We all don’t have.
There’s not much work,
But lots of labors,
In this town.
That’s okay with us.
Dragging, drinking, puffing;
Bound together in one smoke ring,
Waiting to die.
Years from now, when they scroll up our tombstones,
Children will honor the cracks in the cement
Arms linked in the haze and scratch of leaves,
Clinging to the chilled bones of this town.
What Eventually Blushes Green
Because she knows
It will be painful
In the end,
Tendon slap bone slap skin
Marry the salt taste
Above the brow
And someplace down below
Where –
When you think on it
Feels like everything else
In her life,
The sweat tastes like sweat
And something green
Brushed over naked miles
Where –
If she had words
She may say love.
Light carries dark carries flame
Flame a fresh jade onion
Or something just as crisp,
Where –
If you could see her
She may feel like saline
Smell like tendon slap bone
And forever sound like
What eventually blushes green.
It will be painful
In the end,
Tendon slap bone slap skin
Marry the salt taste
Above the brow
And someplace down below
Where –
When you think on it
Feels like everything else
In her life,
The sweat tastes like sweat
And something green
Brushed over naked miles
Where –
If she had words
She may say love.
Light carries dark carries flame
Flame a fresh jade onion
Or something just as crisp,
Where –
If you could see her
She may feel like saline
Smell like tendon slap bone
And forever sound like
What eventually blushes green.
Organ Donor To Do List:
One: Read all of it first,
Even the fine print,
Or else the leftover
Will seep out into light
And do significant harm
To the recipient.
*Note – If the latter occurs, you may experience some discomfort.
Two: The guideline, source, and outcome
Are all subjects to change
At the request,
Or even an uneven gesture,
Made by the recipient.
*Note – You may experience nausea, increased anxiety, or depression depending on your hereditary predisposition.
Three: The procedure is not quick.
In fact, it requires profound patience
And site must be clean,
Packed tightly from the outside in.
*Note – If hole seeps, you may experience tenderness or fits of shuddering.
Green ooze is indicative of infection.
Four: Bear the hole.
You are now without.
Recipient claims all rights of disposal
Or promulgation.
*Note – You may experience suicidal thoughts or just sympathy pains.
Disclaimer:
Rights and details not for the public.Copyright the brain
Even the fine print,
Or else the leftover
Will seep out into light
And do significant harm
To the recipient.
*Note – If the latter occurs, you may experience some discomfort.
Two: The guideline, source, and outcome
Are all subjects to change
At the request,
Or even an uneven gesture,
Made by the recipient.
*Note – You may experience nausea, increased anxiety, or depression depending on your hereditary predisposition.
Three: The procedure is not quick.
In fact, it requires profound patience
And site must be clean,
Packed tightly from the outside in.
*Note – If hole seeps, you may experience tenderness or fits of shuddering.
Green ooze is indicative of infection.
Four: Bear the hole.
You are now without.
Recipient claims all rights of disposal
Or promulgation.
*Note – You may experience suicidal thoughts or just sympathy pains.
Disclaimer:
Rights and details not for the public.Copyright the brain
Cold Memory #7 - The Letter
It was a Saturday morning when the letter arrived. Snuggled in with the cable bill and an invitation to a summer wedding, the long envelope looked innocent enough.
She opened it with a smile on her face noticing that her dear friend's address was on it. Surely this was something fun. Just days before the two of them had walked and talked, finally saying those things they often never could before. She eagerly tore the envelope to see what she had written.
Joy slipped quickly to sadness as she read the curlicued script. "You are so bitter. You have such animosity," it read. "You hurt feelings."
Trembling, she put the letter down, half of it unread. Shock faded into despair as she realized she never really knew her friend afterall. Tears blurred her vision and she stepped away from the letter as it hung halfway off the edge of the counter.
Inside, she felt her stomach lurch with fear, trepidation, knowing her confessions were no longer safe - knowing her friend deceived her confidence and did not care for her afterall.
The phone beeped. It was time to meet someone else, someplace else, some other commitment for the time being.
Wiping the tears from her face, straightening, she grabbed her purse and ran outside into the sunshine. Surely she could feign it for another few days until she could deal with this.
She opened it with a smile on her face noticing that her dear friend's address was on it. Surely this was something fun. Just days before the two of them had walked and talked, finally saying those things they often never could before. She eagerly tore the envelope to see what she had written.
Joy slipped quickly to sadness as she read the curlicued script. "You are so bitter. You have such animosity," it read. "You hurt feelings."
Trembling, she put the letter down, half of it unread. Shock faded into despair as she realized she never really knew her friend afterall. Tears blurred her vision and she stepped away from the letter as it hung halfway off the edge of the counter.
Inside, she felt her stomach lurch with fear, trepidation, knowing her confessions were no longer safe - knowing her friend deceived her confidence and did not care for her afterall.
The phone beeped. It was time to meet someone else, someplace else, some other commitment for the time being.
Wiping the tears from her face, straightening, she grabbed her purse and ran outside into the sunshine. Surely she could feign it for another few days until she could deal with this.
Warm Memory #7
It had been an evening when the sun fell lazily over the water. Wrapped in a blanket, she had peered through the glass at the setting sun, wondering if everything she felt at the moment was indeed really happening to her. Somewhere behind her, she smelled the slow simmer of food and could hear him moving about in the kitchen.
Goosebumps surfaced on her arms and she smiled knowing she wasn't really cold at all.
"You okay?" she heard from the distance. He was only about six feet away, but her mind, senses, were someplace else wrapping around the moments of the past hour and a half. She always got this way when they talked this much, when they connected in the ways she hoped they always would.
"Mmm hmmm," she responded, turning to face him.
"You know, I never want that to happen with you," he said. "This is different. I don't want it to happen that way this time. I love it with you."
She smiled. She believed him.
Someplace inside she relaxed her boundaries, finally accepted that this was going to be something far beyond what she ever knew before.
Goosebumps surfaced on her arms and she smiled knowing she wasn't really cold at all.
"You okay?" she heard from the distance. He was only about six feet away, but her mind, senses, were someplace else wrapping around the moments of the past hour and a half. She always got this way when they talked this much, when they connected in the ways she hoped they always would.
"Mmm hmmm," she responded, turning to face him.
"You know, I never want that to happen with you," he said. "This is different. I don't want it to happen that way this time. I love it with you."
She smiled. She believed him.
Someplace inside she relaxed her boundaries, finally accepted that this was going to be something far beyond what she ever knew before.
Day Break
It was summer when she finally awakened. Slowly, she felt her senses returning and a fog lifting someplace below her brain and between her heart. Her legs, arms, hands, and feet began to twitch a bit from unuse and the snap-fizz of returning energy. She opened her eyes to find herself in a quiet hospital room, light shining pleasantly through a nearby open window. Somewhere, birds were singing and cars buzzed along the streets below. From where she lay, she could only see clouds and sunlight and a few trailing leaves from a tree outside.
For a moment, she couldn't do anything but stare. Her focus scanned the room - the quiet TV against the wall, the broken-in chair next to her bed, the bedside table with a chart laying innocently on top. She realized she couldn't move - her arms tucked tightly at her sides beneath blankets. In moments, she realized she was also bandaged.
She wiggled a bit and freed one of her arms so she could pull back the covers. Looking down, she saw her mid-section bandaged tightly with crisp, tan bandages. She reached up, felt her head. Her head was wrapped tightly as well. Puzzled, she continued to look around.
What had happened? Where in the hell was she? She felt an ache that seemed to possess her entire body, but it hurt most above her eyes someplace between them and her brain. As she gained consciousness, the pain increased.
She tried to speak, hear her own voice that morning only to find it was muffled and sore. She lay flatly in wonderment without knowing exactly how she had arrived in this position or how serious her situation at the moment was.
How can such a beautiful day hurt so much? How can such a wonderful morning feel so empty, foreign, and cold?
She hoped dearly to find out.
For a moment, she couldn't do anything but stare. Her focus scanned the room - the quiet TV against the wall, the broken-in chair next to her bed, the bedside table with a chart laying innocently on top. She realized she couldn't move - her arms tucked tightly at her sides beneath blankets. In moments, she realized she was also bandaged.
She wiggled a bit and freed one of her arms so she could pull back the covers. Looking down, she saw her mid-section bandaged tightly with crisp, tan bandages. She reached up, felt her head. Her head was wrapped tightly as well. Puzzled, she continued to look around.
What had happened? Where in the hell was she? She felt an ache that seemed to possess her entire body, but it hurt most above her eyes someplace between them and her brain. As she gained consciousness, the pain increased.
She tried to speak, hear her own voice that morning only to find it was muffled and sore. She lay flatly in wonderment without knowing exactly how she had arrived in this position or how serious her situation at the moment was.
How can such a beautiful day hurt so much? How can such a wonderful morning feel so empty, foreign, and cold?
She hoped dearly to find out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)