It’s a party. I’m an introvert.
Monthly Archives: December 2016
Presents, laughter, and singing:
From Living Death
It happened almost naturally,
A footstep, a raised head.
It emerged from the shadows,
From confinement so deep and still,
From an invisible cage,
From living death.
Seemingly unaffected, it stepped forward,
Creating, completing as once before.
Until the trembling, the fear,
Consumed without warning, without cause
Eroding the ground from beneath its feet,
Consuming the light and sound,
Sucking away even the air
In a terrible pressure,
Pushing it beyond endurance,
Beyond hope until it shook
With the violence of an earthquake,
A silently screaming storm –
Collapsing, unable to stand,
OW: a Brief Acrostic
Over-doing and under-thinking
Works about as well as you’d think…
Six Word Short Story: While Supplies Last
Tonight: available for one night only.
Ifs, Ands, Or Buts
There’s this song from the musical Working called “If I Could Have Been.” The first time I heard it, I laughed to myself a little because it’s so gloriously vague (“If I could’ve been what I could’ve been, I could’ve been somethin’.”), and all I could think was “That’s why you didn’t – you never had a specific plan or goal.” Harsh, yes, but true.
Even as I was enjoying the irony of the song, however, I was struck by the power of one line in particular:
“I never took no for an answer – it was tougher to fight all those ifs, ands, or buts.”
I think an artist of any kind has faced that struggle of being henpecked to death by other people’s doubts, ideas, and fears. In fact, I think it’s a common problem in any job. And in many ways, all those little attacks are much harder to deal with than a single “No.”
You see, no ends. The rest… not so much.
A Winter Fanfare
A harsh, grinding scrape
Echoes through the hush of dawn:
Heralding the snow.
The Dream Unreal
So many things achieved
On time or early:
Making time for
Extra projects to be
And leaving time to read.
The refrain begins again
Like a record stuck inside my head
Repeating words, repeating lines
An idea, a feeling,
Caught in time
Reason lost to endless rhyme:
An obsession of unconscious mind.
Is knowledge like an illness?
Does it infect and spread?
Does it show throughout your body,
If it gets into your head?
And what symptoms should we look for?
Does plumbing cause a crack?
Must artists wear flamboyant scarves?
Must architects wear black?
Does it change your gender?
Does carpentry make you a man?
If I can’t see skills in a single glance,
Then, why do you think you can?