I’m just throwing incendiaries into the dark, to light this place up, hoping to catch a picture of what’s really going on.
Tag: thoughts
productivity
To turn a fellow bloggers phrasing, had an Odd Driving Thought today… (the link is there, so you should go check him out)
Today’s productivity is the results of yesterday’s Focus, willingness to adapt the routine, and care and attention for the present moment. I’d better put it to good use.
And the poem that followed…
Sing
I just want to sing out into this
Production
Today I’m feeling rather productive in my productionlessness. My boss, however, disagrees.
Like Bricks
Like Bricks
I like to put words to images.
To make noise is to vibrate is to create
A family crossing the street
I assign their thoughts to my head
accent on the usual. within my vacuum
footsteps fall silently.
Shadows burst
into fantasy.
Black and White become bullet casings and
spattered targets. Lifting the truth like a
burden or maybe
the bumblebee coming to rest on the sacred.
Resistance lives in all things, carves a night in your chest where
it
hangs a sign and leaves a broom.
Real courage is found
in the not resisting resistance. Traffic sounds are no longer
buried in the trees
brambles of branches tumbleweed through thin winter air.
varicose skies wonder why
mental vibration strung up a cataclysm of
moth balls like bricks through your window
I like to put words to images.
To make noise is to vibrate is to create
A family crossing the street
I assign their thoughts to my head
accent on the usual. within my vacuum
footsteps fall silently.
Shadows burst
into fantasy.
Black and White become bullet casings and
spattered targets. Lifting the truth like a
burden or maybe
the bumblebee coming to rest on the sacred.
Resistance lives in all things, carves a night in your chest where
it
hangs a sign and leaves a broom.
Real courage is found
in the not resisting resistance. Traffic sounds are no longer
buried in the trees
brambles of branches tumbleweed through thin winter air.
varicose skies wonder why
mental vibration strung up a cataclysm of
moth balls like bricks through your window
Whisper
We whisper into the early morning hour out of respect for the dying night
I only write when I’m hungry
I only want to write on an empty stomach, so to feel the urgency of hunger. I will sit with only five minutes left on the clock and write ceaselessly to see what it is that’s important to me. To know the pains clearly. To feel the heart beating.
