Friday, May 27, 2011

pushing our luck

god is a human,
he's all we can imagine.
enlightened first by
european hats,
material things around him.
rooted to Holland.
before the moons of Titan,
met satellite towers,
were we happy?
is a question.
did we ruin the simple life
if curiosity sways along with us,
telling time,
ticking; spinning,
simplifying ignorance.
god has material things.
what can we make that will,
above just moving on,
live on
and work.
living and working
and swinging
and ticking
and talking.
there is a heartbreak
in real things
because they always change.
but to always know
that we will die.
that is so sad.
its why Jupiter fails
to be the second sun.
finding clarity in the longest gap
in the moon's orbit of Saturn.
does it exist if we don't know it?
the reason why the woods grow thick,
and why i lose myself in people's heads.
if i held the button in my hands,
i wouldn't push it.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

KRANG

during that second, i could feel my head weighing heavier; the tide, strong and slow like a locomotive approaching another stop. my eyelids open and close, soft like doors, undocumented to all but myself, as if we were meant to remember each moment when we actually realize something we hadn't known before.
what i see now are things at ease, things that rest and never bleed. these things keep me here staring, a small voice reminding me to do something, like change the clocks, sounding of an older man yearning for his untroubled body back, his sharp mind; the way he remembers himself - even still defending wars and friends, telling me he believed in them.
we're walking on a tangent in a field of flowers wearing the sun's skin, where everything just looks beautiful. (sure, once a vision of the long haired mailman now crossing the yard, pretending to blend in). what will just be when we know where we're going, when we walk with purpose.
i remember when you stood in another room describing us as tumbleweeds. the last words i can remember feeling. you were blunt, you were true and i bought it. after that though, things felt different, the silence was enough to know who you'd been talking about.
having the time to focus on the darkness, hiding that reverence you let brush against your arm, never trying to hold it in your hands. like finding a cartoon birthday card of a kid holding his father's axe, reminding me of when i was young and untouched, buried in a shoebox. we belong to our minds.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

us vs home

sitting, looking out the third floor window of the monster house, forced by the yelling voices outside to smile.
spring break 2011