G l yoner fu. I wait forever for something better. It is human. I am me and animal in habit. Feed my tummy fat and sugar, i will sleep. Dry eyeball in the morning, sighs in the evening. Last of all the good. Forever backwards wanting. Try each joint in terrible achey motion; time has made me wither; and final is every memory splayed like a flayed bo
dy in the sun aware that l both wave and a particle.
Isms and ishs Ates and ucks Inging es's ymns Cal ilk tus Ieieieieie Ders apts ips Nds Nds Owers Ifts. Ilsish, in in en. Oopa oopa, axz.
Perm paper press
Historical blood draws
Tricks and treats in border towns
Costume villains bring doom
Down central ave.
Call the coroner
To view the corpses,
Students crawl close quarter contact
With debts;
Theres nothing like a cold beer
After a hard days work.
I am flying far
To get away.
Its been a tough week. One of my best friends died suddenly and without warning. He was my age, we were extremely close, and had traveled and adventured both together and with our wives (who are also best friends), and the reason why the two of them knew each other. I introduced them on a trip long ago.
Now he's gone and I can't talk to him or see him anymore and I feel lost and alone and scared by all that. And I still feel really numb. And all I can do at night when the kids go down is paint until I can't see straight. Try to make art that he would love, in the way that he loved it when he was alive and would visit my studio and buy paintings and we'd just sit and share.
Can what I make now do justice to his past memory. Can it make him alive the way his singing makes him alive when I listen to him. Its crazy how if you die and you are an artist, and then moreso a singer a musician, everything you leave behind is a recording. And not only a recording but something people want to listen to over and over again because its music. Its not home videos or short clips, but actual art made by the person externalizing everything about themselves.
We can visit that art, hear the ghost of a dead loved one. I have had other friends die, and I can't even really remember what they sound like because the last time I heard them they were alive and its been too long now..
But with Blair, I can play something from my phone. And it becomes all so real. And I'm tired of feeling the multitude but I guess that's better than nothing. And nothing would be worse. Thered be no art, no songs, nothing. So I can be thankful and know that time will pass and not get better but just be more of everything that is. I suppose writing about acceptance is a lot easier than feeling it, and it being true. Its a step? I hate the stages of grief. They've been with me for way too much of my lifei am sure i would
Know better
If my pruning shears were
Sharper, slicey slew slaw
Sawing all toothy.
Edgey cut bloody
Pouring from gashes.
Im all for efficiency,
Clawing at redundancy.
Shouting wont save it
Not when there's yelling,
Rotting from poison
Rusting without reason.
Laugh it up fuzzball
Cure those crusty phantoms.
If i was quicker with justice,
Then balance be brokered.
patrol the grounds
check the trees,
shut the gates
and set the watch;
remove refuse
broker the close
of the kitchen and hearth.
Abandon all the worry
of the past living day.
Hanging are the orchids,
geckos run the ramparts,
ants tarry with nightly cleaning,
broken are the whispers,
Ghosts command the creaking,
fathers break the pantry,
couriers slumber all the deeply,
guests snore sleepy in their chambers,
doggies whimper dreamy,
& princes and princesses sleep
peaceful.
Bricks cast shadows from the lamp light;
stars shine broken in starry starlight,
on windows darkened,
On full summers,
final winters,
shiny spring,
resting fall.
Comfort castle
cozy fort
sanctuary becoming
sanctum heart!
