Posts for June 14, 2023 (page 5)

The last time I earnestly prayed was for the sega channel to work. My brother, cousin and i all kneeled down on the green carpet at our grandparent’s house and put our hands together to beg God to let it work so we could play Megaman. It never worked and that’s why I think we all grew up to be nonbelievers.

One of the games that did work that we would turn to after our unsuccessful prayers was this game called Golden Axe. I remember you would look for little hams that would restore your life. We’d hit these little minions at the beginning of the levels with a two piece and biscuit with our axe, hit em with a little 3 piece dinner box and the sound of the axe clanking against their armor and bones made a “frick em frack em fruck em” sound. That sound has comforted me throughout my life whenever I dont like somebody or wanna do something I just say Frick em frack em fruck em.

Thanks Golden Axe. Or should I say Thank God.

A home aroma. 
Food waste complains down the drain;
Fix the mix with sticks. 

I’ve noticed that I must have the very best
of mental diseases

While others seem
caught in the spider’s web of memories
reliving horrible humiliations
rewatching all the terrible suffering

I gotta say “that ain’t me”
Instead I spend all my time either
practicing my philosophy of 
Creative Reality

In which I imagine something I want
then maybe do some planning or expect serendipity
(you won’t even believe how well this has worked!) 
or I change the past and think about the implications of that
(I would have been such a great guitarist)

Someone might say to me “Hey, remember when so and so was here and did that vicious thing? and I’ll reply “Well, sure” but honestly I should have said

“Well, I do now”

I’m too busy thinking about the future or alternate pasts
Living in a fantasy world of my own creation where
It’s really hard to hold a grudge

Think of me
when you’re standing on the beach.

Will you miss home?
I promise to send you postcards
care-packages
you name it.

As the Carolina breeze
tangles your red curls
remember you always have a place here.

So when we hug you goodbye
and you get too busy living life to call
promise you’ll think of me
when you’re standing on the beach.

On the middle of a bridge, I forget
where I was going, where I came from.
The bridge is burning
beautifully
on both ends.
The cloudless sky calls to me
through the voice of a bird,
its beak open wide as the body
of a fish being gutted.
The water below looks so coolly refreshing.
A fish leaps, plunks.
The water rushes to cover this up
like a secret.
The splash reaches the tip of my tongue
like a name I can’t quite remember.
I forget whether I belong
to the sea or to the sky.

An unsightly wavering,

letting go is never easy

and maybe

you never truly let something go

you always remember

the memories

the laughter

the tears

the amount of work you put into it

even when you think its over

it never really is

because letting go is a part of life

and life goes on

so maybe

letting go

is really forgiving

forgiving the people who wronged you

forgiving the the things that caused you pain

forgiving yourself

and no

you don’t always have to forgive

maybe you just need to find

peace in yourself

so you can feel relaxed

so you can laugh again

smile so hard your cheeks hurt

and maybe

i’ll never let this go

but i can try to forgive

or try to unbury the peace i know is in me

because i know i deserve it

I make a pilgrimage, which I do
whenever I find myself in the land
of my childhood, about once a year,
to the spot where I caught
my first fish, which also happens
to be my best fish, which doesn’t
say as much about my fishing
as you might like to think, so you
just watch it. It was one helluva
fish, if you are inclined to believe
any fisherman. I perch on the same
rocks and wood posts that still hold
back the earth, and there I am,
telling my dad I had a fish, him
saying it was just the current, me
reeling the line in anyway, and
that monster rising to the surface. 
That night we ate my fish fried.
Standing in the spot, where I will
return until I don’t, I make a sign
of respect, which is just for me,
and walk back to my family. 

my earliest memory is of learning disappearance / on my father’s lap smudging an eraser across the page / even then i knew what i could lose if i was not careful / how whiteness operated to disappear you / have you ever been the first to leave a room / have you ever made your place behind the camera / my children might know me only out the corners of their eyes / when birds slam against rainbacked windows they leave their outlines / the water continues as if there was not dying all around it / are you seeing this / i ask someone here are you seeing this / how many buildings have i passed through without a sound / how many years only remember me by my imprint / when we speak a word we are naming each of its previous utterances / i fear i am only the language i have kept alive / the light we look through took years to get here / to see the disaster you must first see its veil / often it is so bright our pupils are not made for it / they call their blood to the photograph / to take an image you must first take all the light out of the room / please hold as i steady / please keep your eyes soft / as i click /

How I wish I could see both
Sides of this thought, one prose
And the other for a lonely poet
But they are ends, I know it.

I need materials to build myself up
Creativity is in a slump
The wonder of my body
Is that I hold rungs that are anything but shoddy.

The world opens for me
But my body itself is a shallow sea
If anything, I am a prison
A prison for dead ends.