....From The Tree Of........................Isolation & Thought
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_______________________________________________________ Simplify Clock hands hold nothing. Move with moon movement, love by heart beat. Verify the voice- make sure there's ground beneath your feet, and bolt stand up on colt legs. Outlaw Been driving without a current license now for two years; didn't get the forms I needed for the photo ID, and let it slide. Like most things, a situation gets familiar, no matter the hazard, a person learns to live with it; forgets the fear. God knows why it should bother me so badly, being within kissing distance of catastrophe every time I'm behind the wheel, but a body suddenly pays attention. Wonders why it'd been so foolish all along, squeaking by on borrowed time- maybe enjoying its illicit nature- getting away with something, but today I wanted to do what's right, so this morning, I went to the Penn Dot website. With shaking fingers, applied for a Personal Identification Number to be mailed within two business days. Time to find if they have me listed as lapsed, like a Catholic- no confession, no communion, no such license on file, or rightly see me as the fool I've been bid me pay my pence to Charon, cross on over with the other riders, passage paid for- what a stupid unnecessary mess, like so much of what we call this life: mismanaged, misbegotten, mal aligned and mostly, sadly, drag-assed, hangdog ................tardy. Focus Night times some times there is a cold feel like a friend so familiar you can call it names only the two of you understand. You hitch your arm around it, both stare up into the thin bone of moon, and know your are particular, distinct, walking a wire of white light toward a pinpoint so sharp finally, it frees you. Denial A long thin nerve attaches us, the lot of us, a pathway whereon neurons jump carcass to carcass, dead except for that. I think we should be wary, for most frequently the impulse that fires Dick to Jane and Jean to Jude, is the rude rider Sex, who next to Religion is the one who'll do the most damage if he's traveling as a stowaway: you mustn't ever hide him, for just as love of God combined with hatred of one's human nature, causes men to throw a few old witches on the pyre, so love of sex and hatred of one's sexual nature oft times will make liars who build fires, then declare the building isn't even burning. Cornered Does this ever happen to you? In the middle of the night, middle of the street, the heart-stop thought when I think, "One day, I'm going to die. One day, this breath will be the last", and really, truly, believe it? The cold sweat, the slow scalp creep of feeling it for real just like an evelope that holds the winning actress name had been handed to me all sealed and neat, the vellum crisp, intact. I tear it back to find the black-ink words on white, black bordered, but so clean it's unmistakable for sure, and all the stars go out; I hear each heartbeat clearly, and I know the beats are numbered and I'm crazily alive with absolutely no place else to run. Uneasy There's a black patch with no light offside my vision, a spot where reason doesn't visit. Looks at things as shriveled, sucked, drained: the rains are no where here. Dry as words carapaced, vacated long ago, their meat, eaten; a spot that sits and waits. At edge of eye this day, I spied a low slunk something scurry up the wrong side of a tree, like a spider seen before the lights go out; I won't rest easy till it comes back down again. Suckers Know what I dream about? Vampires. Bony. On me. Dragging on veins and one, the strongest one, has a way of sucking on the mouth of my aorta till my knees sag. Rug meets face and I am anything he wants tonight. Chasing A small red spot sharp-focused on the floor darted like a moth zigged and zipped and drove the cat to distraction. A laser pen a keychain toy I'd bought as a lark for my own amusement, now perplexes the cat. He lunges. Twitches tail quick jerks of head 90 degrees of snap this way and that, so fast and so robotic. His tensed up torso quivers on its shanks tucked tight and stalks the little UFO that devils him. It was fun to watch. Now, the light gone, the rug just rug, he sweeps the floor with eyes gone batty altogether. Looks for things that aren't there, his tail still beats the air then rug, air, then rug; he and I aren't really so much different after all. Hard And Soft I am hard to know. I have a heart that smacks as well as beats and teeth enough still, to make a mark. I've lost so many important things pinned like butterflies stuck through bellies, wings, and still they've slipped away or asked to be released. I am not velvet- I am flint. While velvet cushions softly, flint will spark and some- they need more nuzzling than light. Cyber Numb Sit on the ground and talk to a stone; light it, give it sound. Reach out and feel it, it is hard. Give it words, write on it. It is not alive, nor will it sleep beside you in old age. Sit at a screen; thousands of dots dance. Re-form. Impersonate. Reach out and feel that it is hard, it does not breathe, and its memories are not attached to flesh. Pull its plug. Go out into the sun. Be there for it to begin. On To Page 20 .............. Return To Contents This site sponsered by 
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