Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Selfish like a magnet
Heart like hardwood floors
Careless like weeds
Temper like a dormant volcano

Lazy as lillypads
Proud as a Pharisee
Patient as a fuse
Stubborn as cancer

Saturday, October 16, 2004

Turtle: Where's your tie? Don't you know this is a formal?

Worm: Uh yeah . . . I'm wearing a bolo tie but you just can't see it because it's so small around my worm neck

Turtle: Worms don't have necks

Worm: Yo mamma ain't got no neck.

Turtle: Say What

Worm: You heard

Turtle: You betta recognize

Worm: Turtle don't want none.

Turtle: Bring it bolo

All of the sudden the watchman walks in. He's blind. The turtle starts laughing and the worm starts laughing and the turtle keeps laughing and the worm keeps laughing

Watchman: What

Turtle: You ain't got no socks on watch

Watchman: So, cut me a break I'm a blind watchman How's I supposed to remember my socks

Worm: You could write it down.

Watchman: I can't see how am I supposed to read.

Turtle: You could get an interpreter

Watchman: Is that a bolo tie

Worm: Yeah thanks

Turtle: I thought you was blind.

Watchman: Correction. I am blind.

Turtle: Like you still is blind

Worm: Of course he's still blind Turtle. Watchman can't just get unblind all the sudden. What you think this is, the future.

Watchman: How can it be the future currently.

Turtle: Same way you see worm's bolo tie.

Watchman: Magic?

Worm: You know magic?

Turtle: Who Magic is.

Worm: you know magic.

Turtle: I do?

Watchman: I do.

Worm: Who asked you four eyes.

Turtle: Yeah what kind a blindman wears glasses. That's messed up.

Watchman: They help me pretend to think.

Worm: I got a magic trick for you.

Turtle: Knock Knock

Worm: Who's There

Turtle: A Rabbit

Watchman: A Rabbit Who?

Turtle: A Rabbit out a hat. Ta da.

Worm: That's the dumbest magic trick I ever heard.

Turtle: Yo mamma's a dumb magic trick

Watchman: He's got you there worm.

Worm: Scoreboard.

Turtle: But . . .

Worm: Scoreboard.

Turtle: . . . no one is keeping score

Worm: Tell it to the Scoreboard.

Suddenly the blindman takes off his glasses and starts laughing. He keeps laughing until Turtle and Worm can't help but forget what they are fighting for.

Watchman: I ain't got no socks on

Turtle and Worm: You crazy.


Friday, October 15, 2004

Eyes glazed over with work. Take a moment to listen to the revolution inside my ears. What if I'm old?

Saturday, October 09, 2004

Fall without assignments. The days get shorter but the don't stop coming. Routine is a trash can full of excuses. When the time comes I'll get around to it. Time isn't coming though, just days. One right after another like words on a page no one will read. There is order and form but no meaning. Opportunity comes in a cereal box. If only I could afford it.

Monday, May 24, 2004

I miss my blog. I want to do it more and today the idea of putting pictures on it made me dink around with it again. I hope I can get it to work. Than I will have some good picture fun. Just you wait.

Wednesday, February 25, 2004

As Lost as a Blind Man on Vacation by himself

Middle of the country written all over my face
With a magic marker
And well bred too
Like an expensive dog without
The brain damage

Over-Educated odor drips from my pre-owned shirt
Off the placemat
Onto the air
Errors I put on to impress you
I Spit in the face of the convention
His name is wind
Touch it for the purpose of knowing it
Just as I suppose most men do

I will tie myself to a classic beauty for forever
Only without the growing up part
To have and hold hands with
As long as we both shall live the dream

Humor masks my intensity
Like make-up on a bad actor playing a cheap whore
Victim of the middle child syndrome
Having my sights set on failing least
I maintain the breath for the stretch run

I wasn’t cut out for this
In fact I think it was more of a falling out than a cutting
An absolutely flawless falling
A bowling ball and a feather in a vacuum
Somewhere in the space between my ears.

Friday, January 30, 2004

Straight Lines

The dawn cracks like an eggshell on a skillet
And the icy air waits just beyond breakfast
Quiet jelly toast is eaten off familiar forks
His once frostbit hand has yet to be gloved

The bright sun is as cold as the conversation
Where words are few his voice is strong
Shared silence is the music of the unheated cab
Broken only by the telling of his same stories

The frozen dirt shines its brown brightness
On the braced walls of suburban sameness
I continue to help him construct the future
In the form of a new houses for strangers.

The clouds dance along the top of new walls
Where he stands casting winter shadows
Taking measurements and figuring angles
Because he still build houses with straight lines.

Monday, January 26, 2004

This is an amazing poem from a book called "Polishing the Petoskey Stone" by Luci Shaw

The Foolishness of God

Perform impossibilities
or perish. Thrust out now
the unseasonal ripe figs
among your leaves. Expect
the mountain to be moved.
Hate parents, friends, and all
materiality. Love every enemy.
Forgive more times than seventy-
seven. Camel-like, squeeze by
into the kingdom through
the needle's eye. All fear quell.
Hack off your hand, or else,
unbloodied, go to hell.

Thus the divine unreason.
Despairing you may cry,
with earthly logic--How?
And I, your God, reply:
Leap from your weedy shallows.
Dive into the moving water.
Eye-less, learn to see
truly. Find in my folly your
true sanity. Then, Spirit-driven,
run on my narrow way, sure
as a child. Probe, hold
my unhealed hand, and
bloody, enter heaven."

Wow. The divine unreason overwhelms me. I am brought to tears at the images of this poem. I can't stand the life of reason that surrounds me and pins me to the dollars and cents. The facts of life that stand between me and the moving water. I don't want to live in the weedy shallows anymore. Depth of heart. Depth of love. I want to love so deeply that I overwhelm my beloved. Oh Divine Folly cure my sanity. I want so bad to reawaken my heart. But instead I do my best to take back the commitments of my youth. I put in my glass eyes. I stretch band-aids on my pouring wounds and stumble my way backwards into a heaven I'm running away from.