What Nobody Can Hear
The day came slowly this time. Granted, it wasn't anything most would notice, but there did seem to be a new brand of light. Cleaner, maybe more efficient than past versions. I picked up a stone on my way that morning. It had been a long night and my heart was standing still. Whoever had the idea to wander over to the necktie district was certainly down with motives that I cannot understand. Of course this leads me to my stone here. The poor damn thing, left out in the cold, hassling for pennies. Was it singing?
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"bang-bang!" screamed my daughter. "You're dead now and I'm the happier for it. sinking whales have fared better than you! Now get to bed, you're just a waste of space anyhow."
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My 3 Kings
Who ever saw me once may not see me again. And I'll prove my point in that way. You've got no right to dispute it. Nobody does. Not even my 3 kings. Yes, you heard right. My 3 Kings. I own them. They sold themselves to me. At the highest bidder even. I must say, I'm getting quite good at taking the right chances when they present themselves. One day those kings may buy themselves back, but it's okay, I am prepared. They can leave at anytime, without notice even. I'm not too good at good byes anyway. They twist me the wrong way. Just leave the cash on the counter and step out quietly. Be careful, the last gate is a clunker. Give it a good jiggle. I might be watching from the upstairs bedroom but don't bet on it. Likely I'm off on a sailboat nearest the coast of Thailand, or jumping fences in Mrs. Baltimore's ageless backyard. But don't bet on that either. I bought you and I can sell you. Just give me the chance. You may see me once, but you won't see me again.
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Waterboxing
The Ocean is looming
I'll challenge it to a fight
It gets the first punch in but
I am quick on my feet
Perhaps the Ocean doesn't know "how quick" I can be
I take a dive and search for a soft spot
I don't find it yet, but I can be patient
Perhaps the Ocean doesn't know "how patient" I can be
For now a simple left jab will do
and it works! So I back off
dancing...bobbing....dancing...
The Ocean moans and brings forth
a ferocious uppercut to my chin
I fall backwards and as I do so, it happens
I start to believe
Maybe it's nothing but I'm on my feet in no time
Perhaps the Ocean doesn't know "how believing" I can be
Even if it does, it surely can't expect my next move
I begin to charge
The gulls are whimpering, or cackling
I can't tell which
The Ocean foam is boiling with a rage
I cannot even begin to comprehend...
When I come to it is getting dark and I am alone on the beach
I look up and notice that the sea is peaceful, pleasant
as if coaxing me in
It's tempting, and I still believe I have something on that Ocean
But I am patient and, though I don't know much,
maybe there will be another day
Perhaps the Ocean doesn't know "how much" I don't know
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I never looked the same as I did that first day. There was a nothingness, an easy flow, a lost innocence regained. Words held much truth. Eager, easily shattered truths. No one blamed me for crosswards thinking or delivering the space echo. I don't know what I said. There are short flashes. I don't think I was really there. Either way, I am sorry.
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From One Place to the Next
Someone let on to me that a certain friend of ours had been sneaking around in the field behind my house. I was shocked and appalled. My wig came unscrewed and my eyes switched places. Meanwhile, in the locker room the football team seemed undaunted and their newest prospect, a 4 year old from Chattanooga, was getting suited up. We'd heard about him but only from the priest at St. Marks. His sermons were twisted and brimming with a rage only I could understand. On the outside he was a monster, but inside a strange fear filled his soul. We spoke over tea. Kittens filled the rooms of his house, swarming around, covering the walls. One handed me a bowl of fruit and I obliged. You see, the sin was to ignore them. They cannot possibly take on any other characteristic, and now that I think about it, where was their mother? I left the meeting with a sense of doubt, feeling broken, fragile, trying to get to a new space in my over-traveled mind. I looked up while walking past your house over on Fell Street. The clouds were linking themselves together. They seemed to be moving towards the Northeast corner of the sky. What were they doing there? Who had arranged this? My movement was creaky, the bones I had left scoffed with each step. I longed for a noise, barely whispering in my ear. What was that? Can you speak up? I know you're there.
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She asked who was singing and pointed to the sky. I fiddled with my teeth and broke out my favorite batch of jokes. If that's good enough for you I suppose I'll continue to try....try shooting for the sun. It's difficult to believe in but we may not have a choice. Give me your paint smeared hands and take off your railroad cap. Have a seat here in the very corner of the room.
That was the last I saw of her, so I packed up some of my best tools and continued down the hallway. There are portraits on every side. Some of grave diggers, others are someone's uncle, or a romantic fling gone awry. Once I came to a door on the left. To turn is to admit defeat, but to pass by is certainly impossible.
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BMX Take-Out
Anywho, thanks for your patience and good afternoon to ya. This is Piley Tumnus, bringing you "Gifts from a Drifter" here on your local choice for country ballads, WDIG 108.2. It's a lovely afternoon and whether your kickin' the cattle, havin' a smoke on the mower, or just nappin' by the molehill, we'll be bringing you some nice, comfy tunes. Yeah....just fer you! Which reminds me of my grandmother and how she used to sing me lullabies beyond my belief and understanding. But hey! who's counting?! Don't know how many bees buzzed around in those innards, but hey! who's counting? Let's dedicate this one to her. On her birthday. Here's to you grandmuh...
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disguises work best when flattened.
I find myself creeping onto the metro, umbrella in hand. It'd been a while but i was glad to be back on stormy shoulders. Only 5 minutes had passed and I ran into a friend. Good 'ole Christy grazed my toe with her elfish flip flops. There was no time to duck behind the bench, so i confronted her with mild charm. It seems she'd been walking the streets for days, accompanied by her dane, Mr. Sink. "Who is it that you used to be?" she asked. With a grin I said I was the schoolboy who taught her about the senses. It didn't make much sense, but alas, I am child-proof so what's to gain? Here's where I get off.
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Santa is clever but knows the wiser of us is I. I, afterall, am the one who climbed his chimney and dropped in on his little toy-making soiree. After a moment spent dusting off my shorts I took my very precious time to deposit a few nickels into his (you know who) endless pocket. Everyone looked up at me as if the cat had called home, as if my money was meaningless. And they would be correct. It is. As is this entire willingness to cry about my own death when it was I, afterall, who faked it in the first place.
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Smith and Jan
Smith: What should I do?
Jan: Drain the fake castle, but not until we've made plans for a new one.
Smith: Hold on.... Look, Queen Stiltsy is mocking us. We need to get back to work.
Jan: OK, but It'll be easier if we finish.
Smith: Don't re-write your homework. Instead gaze on your trouble-charmed clock basking in it's own tock-tick.
Jan: No, No, not on my watch you son of a crane! The long ones with rubber necks, bald beaks, and filthy doormats.
Smith: OH! Do get out of here. We're almost to our repeated destination anyway. The speakers blare atmospheric cow dung but what do you care!? The nurse you called up is giving away free neck massages but what do you care!? It should be to your advantage to take up a career in neck simplifications but what do YOU care!?!?
Jan: Hey! Don't put this on me you piece of mold! I see your cowboy boot stare. Don't think I haven't noticed what we're dealing with. That's it. Let's stop up here on the corner. You'll pack up my bags and leave with them.
Smith: C'mon, don't be like that. I just need a few t-shirts.
Jan: Okay.
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To a Friend
I feel very close to you, yet I have no words to speak. Please don't blame me. It's something else, much deeper, where the grime has clogged passageways. It has instilled a deep fear in a part of me. Don't get too close or a darkness may escape. It seems to feed off of it....that closeness. Lurking, waiting for the right moment.
Did I hear something? A rattling of the leaves to signal your arrival? Did the door creak? I'm back here! Hey! Over here! Just waiting...
Please give me another chance.