lost bells.

maybe this time around
i’ll sing for my
supper. try for aesthetic
darwinism.
starve when I have no beauty
to scrape up. and
crumble
under those clouds.

kicking around

I will be signing up for a few community classes.

One is signing with babies, which I am talking to help Norma communicate. The class listing said it can also be used with people who have disabilities as well, so I immediately thought of her when I read it. Hopefully it will do some good before she goes completely blind.

Another I have my eye on is either jewelry making or belly dancing.

I have wanted to learn sign language and Braille sometime in my life. The class I am taking is a first step towards it. At one point I want to be a sign language interpreter for a few years, I feel I can learn a lot from it. I would learn Braille so I could type up all sorts of public documents and books that would otherwise be unavailable.

Its early but I am too stubborn to rest just yet.

their turn now

I am only tired of the sinking
the subtle decline
the slow rot

flesh can only hold so tight
and bones never ask.

saying

I spend a lot of time phrasing things. I want the perfect way to lay it all down, almost as if it happened to the person I am talking with.

When you pass something on, there is always a small break in the connection, a bit of a slant, since we only read one word at a time, can only understand one object's detail at once.

plates like pennies

its between choosing to be
a white cloth
I want their fingerprints
and smears from the pen
that leaks out the rest of the blue,
and the
stains of wax

if I were mostly dishwater
i could hide things
like blood and early age.
maybe I could drown those
streetside words.

maybe my skin would be thicker,
my stare could be understood.
but white catches things
and my life brushes back up,
when I am not looking.

Cartoon Blues

I listen to a lecture of nonsense till dawn.
By a plagiary poet with dark glasses on.
He said "how did you ever dream up that song?
The one where the baby dies."
I said I'll tell you the secret which one's your good ear?
Yeah, people are made up of water and fear
If there weren't women present we wouldn't be here.
So lets make like we're friends.
Then the pot turned to powder and soured the mood
And the people I come with were gone from the room.
So I asked like a child may I be excused?
and disobeyed them all.
Into that late night latrine rain soaking through my shoes.
I tried walking backwards to get less confused.
Working off a theory I could never prove
That it was life itself to blame.
And time ruined the world
like a failed revolution.
A tumor we could not remove.
An old friend, a constant, the blues.
Now my days are distractions that ring in my hands.
Solitaire crosswords and films on demand.
Return from a cartoon back into a man.
You start to smell that human smell.
And so I sleep with the fan on to drown out the street,
and the noise rising up from the bar underneath.
For that inconvenience all my drinks are free
So I guess it's just as well.
Why do I envy the ending right from the start?
Just get it together to take it apart.
Watching the horse as it follows the cart.
I sweep up my broken spell.
And I felt something changing the world
like a new constitution
A thief I would have to pursue
at all times at all costs.
The truth.

-bright eyes