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Archive for January, 2013

Jelly Soul

There’s this

thing

I can only hold.

It’s all I know.

It’s all I know – of.

It moves.

I can handle it. I sit here and stare at it.

I’m in it.

It’s this,

blob.

Kind of. It’s dry but gelatinous I guess is how I’d best describe this lively composite that’s on the inside.

I move it and feel the weight change.

It moves.

It’s like the blurry-paced motion of bouncing a Slinky back and forth between your hands –

but only in slow motion.

Probably slower than you’re picturing.

It’s opaque

but I can see things.

Scenes.

People.

Not really.

I can’t imagine so.

But swirls of dust, lust, glitter, and energy that start to

kind of

look like all that.

Sometimes the weight changes.

Sometimes it gets heavier and doesn’t seem to have any reason as to why.

It doesn’t get bigger.

It gets warm.

And cold.

Cold-er, I should say.

Sometimes the particles inside hold together tightly

and it lobs from one hand to the other.

It gets gooier sometimes

to where I can feel the weight of its matter

invade the space

between my fingers

as it flops off the side of my hand

jiggling

and plops into the other.

It has – feelings.

It gives me feelings.

I don’t recognize this-

but I know I must take care of it.

As if

everything

depends

on it.

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life’s impact

When life wants you to take notice it hits you with an impact, it lets you contrast one moment from the rest and take notice that something has changed, it’s arguable the fates reserve this means for rewards as promotional acceleration through transition for the generation of positive karma or even for the momentary transcendence to a state of existence where vibration is rapid, connection is absolute, and conscious is beyond visualization, when life decides to pass information right before your eyes yet wants you to be unaware, it does so by gradually introducing you to a new reality, the tree at the edge of your property dies so slowly it may have fallen before you notice anything different, as is this story, a good life is like warm breath on your neck that quickly dissipates with no trace, I once held the hand of an angel but at best it was fleeting, life was already an ice road so it didn’t really stand out when the wind began to blow, every specially formed snowflake is crafted from now broken molds, every drop of rain lands with an incalculable system of action, re-action, and at best is only matched with an accurate re-en-action from those that follow, the point being some-time is only able to occur one time, and the time of your life is not a time span of being “in” life but the moment you take notice you are “of” life, in ignoring the mourning of the loss of my love I had the moment that defined my reality and changed my life, and since I thought I survived that heart attack  I thought at this time I was still living, broken hearted and talking crazy I’d say “Today’s gonna be a good day”, my blood was once roasting, and then toasty, and though the gauges didn’t change, the warmth continued to escape the world like the break in the clouds was an open window in winter, and there it was, each day was the same just a little less, I thought I had survived that heart attack but now it’s been a long time since I’ve thought that, things started to go down, I paid attention to nothing but my feelings which is ironic because I didn’t notice how each year I felt a little less, my head got filled with anxieties, depression, and other words we refrain from using because it only draws attention that our own compass points right to them, I no longer stood out from the crowd, dwelling became strength and sex became weakness, we used to rally around at parties now no one likes the music, the wind continued to blow through my clothes, my skin, my eyes, I can’t think of how many times I wondered if this was my life, but it wasn’t as simple as that, I remember my heart gasping to breathe, I draw lines in the dirt where there is no dawn and no dusk, I walk in a place where it hurts to move but won’t allow me to be still, I rest just enough to remain tolerant and sustain my mind which is my only sense of feeling, I remain focused only to cultivate or possibly fabricate emotion, and as I learn this is more real than life I continue to move, and wait for the false, watch for a sunrise, or sunset, or something that looks like the morning has reached noon, can hell be this cold?, once warm kisses and breath blew on the back of my neck and brought summer to my shoulders, and there is no basis of knowing how long it’s been since then, we long for the past as if tomorrow could ever be yesterday, and with this realization the first warm glow glazed over my face and I knew what it was, this was yesterday’s tomorrow and the burst of reality couldn’t have been more clear

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The screen door clapped like a mousetrap behind Kim as she stepped up the single step and went inside the little store. It was slightly darker and cooler than it was outside, even with the rain. The old wooden floors had a thin layer of permanent dust just from the aging boxes and bodies that inhabited the shanty turned trading business. Patrons entered the country store and were greeted by a small chalk board listing ice cream flavors. To the Left was an old ice-cream freezer with a glass top and sliding doors on the opposite side for serving. The counter and cash register was to the Right where one could find anything from lip salve or fingernail clippers, to kid’s candy and baseball caps. Amongst the several short aisles that led you to the refrigerated display doors hosting a small bounty of chilled and drinkable products was a small two-person booth where Kim and Shad had spent more than an hour on a number of occasions. Shad took a seat as Kim took a walk around to survey her snack options as neither of them thought anything of the quietude of the store. Though it was only after deciding to forgo her craving for chips and instead pick up a single-serving bottle of apple juice that Kim entered a section of the store with some minor disturbance. As she walked towards the back of the mildly-lit store she ran upon the sound of quiet sweeping, introducing good ol’ Chuck Ellis into her mind just a few seconds before making a visual debut. The soft sounds of an old broom on the timeless hardwood floors was the preceding noise to rounding any curb and seeing a soft old man tending to his housekeeping. Chuck Ellis was a white-haired, warm-hearted institution of the area as he opened the store each morning in his red flannel shirt and trusted overalls. He stood about the same height as the rest of them but had a bit of a belly and moved like a man who had seen the best of his days but knew the secret to it all was to just keep it moving.

“Hi Chuck.”

“Hey there Sweety.” And with that Chuck ushered his little pile of dust and dander to the end of the aisle and rested his broom against the wall. “What are you up to today pretty girl?”

“Shad and I just gettin’ out the rain. Might be a storm on the way. We was just down at the river and got run off b’cuz of it.”

“Oh yeah Almighty, I heard it booming a ways off just a while ago. You know, me and your Grandfather got chased off the river by a great big storm back when we were kids. ‘Cept we got in a heap of trouble ‘cuz we didn’t leave when it got bad. We stayed out on the river… ended up stranded ’til morning. Whole town was worried but only two of us was in trouble. Your father didn’t ever cause much trouble but what little he did I tell ya he got it honest.”

Chuck shot Kim one of his glances filled with the signature warmth that only comes from an old man and his memories. Kim always looked to Mr. Ellis as a surrogate grandfather coupled with the fun and pleasure of a family friend. She and most of the McDermott children looked forward to seeing him when they stopped by the store. Kim smiled back at him and turned to open the full length glass door behind her where she knew Chuck stocked the apple juice. Turning back to her old friend, she followed him down the short aisle and back to the counter where he rang up her sale and laid eyes on Shad for the first time.

“Hey Chuck!” shouted Shad just as the two were exchanging coins.

“Hey buddy, how ya doin’ today?” responded the store owner without looking up from the transaction. “Heard y’all were running from a storm.” and with that Chuck raised his head to smile back at Shad. He then turned all the way around towards the window behind the register and gave a good observance to the rain.

“Yes sir we were. Headed to the pavilion first but it was full up with cones and stuff.” Shad said.

“I saw ’em bringing all that in ‘ couple hours ago. Thought it was actually the storm they were calling for making its way here early; big trucks and all. I think they’re doing something with Henderson’s field right there in town. Some folks was talking about it I think.” and with that Chuck turned back around to the two young McDermott’s and took a half step forward to lean his forearms on the counter clasping his hands. His thumbs like scissors cutting back and forth around each other.

“What’re they buildin’?” said Kim.

“Shucks I don’t know. That field right there in town’s always been prime property. it’s nice no one’s tried to do anything to it all these years. Ain’t had any of the Henderson’s living or even come around here for twenty years pro’lly. Isn’t that where you kids normally play ball on Saturdays?” he asked, motioning towards Shad.

“Nah we all go over to the school for that. Long as nobody messes anything up they don’t care none. We were thinking about heading over earlier until we were blessed with this pour-down.” responded Shad.

“Well with as much ruckus as they came into town with I’m sure it ain’t gonna be no secret.” smirked Chuck, and with that the wind started to blow and the sky rapidly became darker. Having only been in Ellis’ Country Store for a few short minutes Kim and her brother became glad they had made it in time despite their lack of hustle.

Shad sat there in contemplation as his old friend took a seat on the patched up stool behind the register counter and looked out into the falling rain. Kim stood next to the ice cream freezer and sipped on her juice while she stared out the little country window on the other side of the doorway. He watched in peace and fiddled his thumbs as they all sat indoors and waited out the storm that had come to them.

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Earth Tones

My Earth Tones don’t shine of gold, bronze or silver.
They chime as bold songs from old gongs with timbre.
Browns and beiges don’t describe my vision.
Sound stages bind color when the page is written.
My Sun beats down with fast spirals of bright bent dancers with sharp slants that fly fast off the stanzas.
To capture a sound would bind hands of the masters.
My Earth Drum comes from a weathered lover’s carol.
From light notes and long groans, strong bones thumb on a leather covered barrel.
Voluptuous thumps of percussive influxes rupture cracks in the surface of illustrious trumpets.
My head grows wrinkled and writhes in the constant sound that bounds off of anything that it touches.
A world bungled in metal but still a jungle forever.
A pearl so perfectly hoisted up from the oyster that held her.
The cloister and loiter before the boisterous bang.
Such an omen, an opus, the moment triangles rang.
I POUND like heavy ground kettles that tap embraced minds and match a sentient drum lover so they spiritually attach
between rays in the Summer that illuminate the backs to embody one another. A soul that won’t lapse.
Let him dance and shake wildly, and braze it in his path.
The pound of bass boldy embraced within his laugh.
My birth hums – you feel it.
It bum’Bumps every second of the season.
It runs heavy with in-pulse unsustainable with reason.
It bursts with each squeeze in a rhythmic cohesion.
My Earth Drum comes from where the perch hung.
Where the top bar sits to mark the first rung.
Where clouds of white cotton cushion the percussion
and vibes of life move the waves like pushed buttons.
My Drum Heart parts the Earth to press life while the Earth eyes parch the surf to stretch light
So the pulse starts at birth for the best – the blessed – and most bright.
Rests between measures like breaths with less effort.
The gasps signify gaps whose depths surpass letters.
I sun pale shepherds and clothe the frail lepers.
My Earth drum beats the strength to all levers.
Platinum doesn’t hold the shine to my stanzas.
No metal in the world can speak to my answers.
Old spells of the planet sing loudly once silent.
Gold sells to anyone whose hand can reach highest.
My king to the crown is beige, to blue… brown.
My Earth tones turn the stage to new ground.
Times press to my skin and write the world’s movement.
I rest to the breath of life and it’s music.

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