PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

a sky too blue

Sunday, May. 19, 2002
I drove there to sit in the driveway before I am served an evacuate notice. I laid down on the driveway like I had done a thousand times getting asphalt hair….staring at the stars. I tried to connect the star dots to get back to a picture of anything….anything true. Nothing true came. I took it all in. The slant of the roof, the sky…the way my car made shadows across the grassy sand of the front yard, the trees arms against the sky. I took pictures with memory, not wanting concrete film to haunt me like thorns.

I went into the vast emptiness of my former life. I again lay down on the oh this is too blue carpeting that I remember hating from day one. I ran my hands over it and was gifted by a thousand dog hairs of a lifetime ago. I took in the perfect white casings around those windows to the world and could hear my once upon a time self exclaim “brand new”. The memories coursed through me….one last time.

One last moment of finality.
A look at poetry graffiti dancing the walls.
My world….and the only thing I think is
the words crooked and bent are mine and
they can’t take that away for the value of society.
Back in my car, windows down, music loud …..
highways caressing tires
smashing away the miles of memory.

……close scene……..

………open new scene……stick figure …..the cousin to Harold….the crayon a can…

spewing paint…..white on white, white on black….
white on yellow….white right out….whit-ed….write…….no more….
it’s perfectly alright ….
tears washing walls of history….
no more…erasing poetically
blue skies….ransacked by white, ran thru black on trite
I can lose, but I will never crop out my fight
Humid air rushes into lungs
Asphyxiation mixes up with paint
Puked up fucked up anger
It all comes
It’s not gone
And then you
I try to tell someone
I think that something inside
Glues back what
Just came undone
I want to look up at the stars
and connect the dots into something
tangible but the world keeps moving
I'm losing the picture I start to draw.
All I manage to do
Is watch helplessly as the pen cries


*note* - I am ok. I feel like that little boy that held his finger in the dam that was leaking. The house situation was like that. I let go. I got drowned. Tonight I swam to shore. Tonight I took back what was mine. Tonight someone said “if you need me tomm. all you have to do is call” And I knew that life goes on. Good goes, but it will come back again. So while I lost it …I found something new.
12:29 a.m. ::
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