Thick Lines

you have evacuated the table
and laid your map down



the roads sit like a clock and you sit perplexed after you made it
drawn lines with thick emphasis

any moment you will accuse me of taking the shelter away



this map you've drawn with thick coatings


but you need me to hide from it.


and if not it will remain like a clock constantly turning your head.

Anthony comes in two's

"So I told her 'truth makes people responsible' and she said 'that's why people dread it, and of course don't want it."

"Right."

"You understand?"

"What?"

"You know what trips me out the most? I can't understand why typed language can be so different from voice."

"What?"

He shook his head for a moment. "I can talk to a woman for hours on the phone, right?"

"Ok."

"We can talk about everything from the fucking take over of the New York Times to the band 'Godspeed you black Emperor' but when we take it to any other form of communication that requires our fingers to do the talking all of a sudden the dialogue bends a little."

"What do you mean?"

"About what?"

"What do you mean, about what? What you just said?"

"OK, what I am saying is we say different things to people we know, OK? When it comes to typing to them than when we use our voice. You understand?"

"Um...I think so."

"You understand?"

"Of course we do, that's a known unknown. People are more comfortable when they can't see or hear the person."

"I get you."

"Ok."

"I get you. What I am trying to focus on is why? Why am I saying more risque shit when I don't see this woman? What is coming out of me that I am not revealing, that I am not understanding, that is not given the opportunity to become mature?"

"Mature?"

"Yes. There is thing in us that is not given a chance to properly mature. It's a toddler, right? Till we are typing behind a curtain then it is out in some fucking play land."


"What goes on in your head Anthony?"

"We are two people."

"What is your point?"

"I want to be one."

"Of course."

.

















very short story for purchase















explicit at times
















"

all the work is done down here


down here


on the hour



detailed

and

peerless




keep your theatrical piece to entertain





but this work is all there is






no need to traval far.

July 9, 2009

Walking Through When Doors Open





When a door opens, walk through it. Trust that the door has opened for a reason and you have been guided to it. Sometimes we have a tendency to overanalyze or agonize over the decision, but it is quicker to simply go through the door and discover what’s there as that’s the only way to know. Even if it doesn’t seem right at first, opening this door may lead to another door that will take us where we need to go.


Doors open when the time is right for us to enter a new space, metaphorically speaking, and we can have faith that walking through is the right thing to do. Sometimes we linger in the threshold because we are afraid of leaving our old life for a life we know nothing about. We may have voices inside of our heads that try to hold us back or people in our lives saying discouraging things.


These voices, internal and external, are known as threshold spirits, and they express all the fears and doubts that arise at the beginning of a new life. Nevertheless, none of these voices can hold us back, and they will fall silent as soon as we cross the threshold. There are many doors that open in the course of our lives, leading us into new relationships, jobs, friendships, and creative inspirations.


Our lives up to this point are the result of all the doors we have walked through, and our continued growth depends on our willingness to keep moving into new spaces. Every time we walk through an open door, we create a sense memory that encourages us to move into the new fearlessly. When we enter the new space, we almost always feel a thrill and a new feeling of confidence, in ourselves and in the universe. We have stepped across the threshold into a new life.









om

"Every one of us

is called upon, probaly many times to start a new life.
A frightening diagnosis, a marriage, a move, loss of a job...
And onward full tilt we go,
pitched and wrecked and absurdly
resolute, driven in spite of
everything to make good on a new shore. To be hopeful, to embrace one possibility after another--that is surely the basic instinct...Crying out: High tide!
Time to move out into the glorious debris. Time to take
this life for what it is."














-Barbara Kingsoliver,
from Hight Tide in Tucson

Summer reading

what is to be said for all the bags of unused words that we have piled up.
piles of sentiments delivered in hushed tones





intricate superlatives and properly insulated nouns.

a very small novel was produced-- one that could light the senses.

but isn't fascinating?

isn't it?

it all goes away to playing in the sunshine

ice cream that melts and falls onto the sidewalk

disappearing from taste like the mirrored self at the end of a unfinished book

there are still the writings of the summer