i feel lonely tonight not because I am alone but because I feel stifled and separated from my thoughts. too much data, too much “work” is frustrating, not in a stifling, exhausting or debilitating way but that which originates in a separation of self truth and expression of deeper thought.
There is a part of me that is not human
or perhaps more human than I
he is thousands of years old,
primitive, covered in hair and moss, he smells like pitch, fir
trees, rain, deer blood, clay, river bottom, musk
has no sense of society, what is polite and expected
he walks barefoot in the snow, chases bear and elk for
fun pisses on trees, devours raw carcass berries grass nectar
can smell a woman or man
from miles away his skin changes color sometimes
eggplant purple sometimes rosehip red
or translucent, he knows fear guilt shame anger
he wallows takes joy in it
his eyes are smiling but his mouth growls
his hair is aflame, he speaks in tongues, using consonants that
would crack my teeth, and make my tongue fork
someone says “you are the devil!” get away from this place!
he starts to laugh an innocent belly laugh hysterical goading
he’s never heard this word before, but he knows what it means
he has gifts for you:
he sees through you
he can hear your heart beating
he disappears back into the dark forest
stepping in the same footprints”
i miss joe. i miss writing. i think this is beautiful
i hate being in love, i’ve never been so sure
all seriousness is in sandcastles. build quiescently
art is knowing that the paint, chalk, graphite, or paper created the image but stepping outside the boundaries of the material and allowing your intuition, emotion, and most thought provoking contexts to take hold and transform the image with your knowledge and your senses. you become aware of an image, meaning, feeling that’s all your own. the piece is living and it gains importance. lose yourself. the paint no longer exists in the eye of the viewer. all that is left are evocative symbols that seem more powerful than anything explicit…if done right.
words, how can i hide from the revealing ever so truthful beautiful keepers of knowledge?
i let the magma seeping out of my brain -with anger passion inspiration and connectivity. like an atom bomb one thought had the ability to quadruple and to link and to explode into understanding.
but then i grew cold. distracted and lazy. the thought hardened and with hindsight, i can no longer see