You’re not going to make it. The train picks up speed, enters traffic. Cars beat like notes on bars. This is our music: feet drumming pavement; babies chime; lights turning green release the strings. If you’d only stop rushing, you’d harmonize. You’re not going to make it. With every mistake humans make, you boil your newborn in anger. We’re not pedophiles for wanting that open seat or fucktards for brushing the stroller. He cries in his carriage. Father, you rock him with the same hands that would hit. You’re not going to make it. Suck the blue straw for the final drop. Groom the last hairs from your scalp. Pluck like dandelion heads. Life has blown you bare, scattering time on everyone else. Watch the world grow, the cancer. You’re not going to make it.
Chronically late, angry and dying
Comments
4 responses to “Chronically late, angry and dying”
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I read this earlier and just plumb didn’t know what to say except it’s brilliant and dystopian and i don’t fully understand it but it makes me feel something powerfully, and sometimes we don’t have to understand consciously to understand. love, angel
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Thank you, Angella. I’ve been rather quiet lately and worried that these poems are very few and far between; and worried that I have nothing to say and I sometimes get like this. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s hibernation? Maybe the avenue is darkened a bit and I need to wait for the next path? I’m sure it’s all of it. I sometimes don’t fully understand either. How can we every fully understand the strangers we see out in the world? I just want to get them down and remember them and thank you for commenting. I’m glad you felt something. xoxo
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I think we get quiet on the blog when we are in a gathering cycle, gathering experiences out in the world, mulling over the threads that connect us, replenishing our creative storehouse so we can go into the next sowing cycle, rich in art. That’s what I think anyway. I’ve been a little quiet myself lately. There’s just so much competing for space in my head and I’m just letting it be for now.
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I like to think that too. This has been a long spell, so it’s hard not to panic a little, but I too have a lot competing for space in my head and as you saw, let it be. Maybe this silence enables us to hear what needs to be heard when it is ready. Until then, I’ll enjoy what has felt like floating in the ocean – peace, sunshine and going where the water takes me. xoxo
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