Speak what you think today in hard words and tomorrow speak what you think in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said today.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance
Out for a walk and I realize that everything I know to be fact, through careful scientific observation, has been told to me. The things that I assume to be true, through my own experiences and observations, are but a myth.
So in a weird-cool turn of events the team at Prometheus Dreaming decided to use my poem Morning Commute in their Thus Spake Prometheus series.
A strange feeling as I never thought about hearing one of my poems read aloud by someone else, always in my own head, in my own voice. However, they did a great job with it. Read by Brian Liebforth, who did a fantastic job. I was curious to know if the inflections and tone would be translated in others reading and it was.
You can follow the link above to hear it at their homepage. Or here to listen on the YouTube page. Thanks again to David and the team for the unique opportunity.
It’s lunchtime and here i am sitting in my van parked in a grocery store parking lot, blowing my nose in a used napkin. A napkin previously used to blow my nose. Homemade vinaigrette sits on the dash
in hopes that the December sun is heavy enough to break through the overcast and liquefy the coagulated coconut oil. It won’t. And I realize that if I were sitting in my Prius, instead of my work van I would satisfy so many generalizations right now, with my pony-tail, writing poetry, drinking kombucha. Maybe I don’t need the Prius after all. Maybe the Prius needs me. And the high-schoolers yell at each other across the parking lot, desperate for attention, and the stay-at-home moms sit
in their vans, just a little longer, enjoying the silence that comes from an afternoon car-ride nap. If i listen closely, the traffic swells become fingertips of the beach, trying to pull me back into her, while the douglas-fir gently wave goodbye.
Sitting under spectacles of spires
the rain falls like crows feet hitting the street have you ever wondered if there’s more than this
the bell rings four times
four times the bell rings and
you think you’ve found god
at the bottom of the stairs
by the gutter under St.
Ignatius’ chapel, but it’s mere
loneliness and green things in a
canopy of themes
reduce the family
the family crossing the street
to accents in your mind in my mind the accent is awailable
but when i try to let it
puncture my lips it slips
and there is space compressing
soaking the words with gasses
or fuel. In the infinite spaces of
my head there is a sanctuary
that i always have access to, yet
cannot reach through the hall of
mirrors. Herbavores bathed here
between the bitter fronds, varicose
tendrils, when i consume i consume
like they do. Green is the colour
i build these pretenses around
trying so hard to protect that
emerald city building
building a city that cannot last
outside we build up, but within
we build out to keep each
other out at a distance so we
can use the smartphone to
get a hold of each other get
a hold on reality get a grip
let it slip cause there’s nothing
more than this. Have you ever wondered?
Do you ever wonder?
where the escape button