I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas. My fingers are Santa's little helpers. My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments. I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn. Sisyphus, sweating uphill. Bukowski, scribbling away in rooming houses. A river always flowing. I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Monday, September 19, 2005
was getting very Thom Yorke and Jack Handy
thinking this
thinking that
mentally treading water
my head bending
and my heart squeezing
tonight, I forgot to notice the world turning
looked out of the window
and saw how red the sky was
I got up out of my seat
and noticed a rainbow
a half circle of clear colors against anger
I searched for my camera
the phone rang
the cat skittered around my feet
I almost gave up
I made it outside
stood in my front yard as cars streamed by
looking up
kids and mothers came out also
now the rainbows gone
and I think that the old man sitting inside before is gone too
he'll be back again
I know it's inevitable
but next time that he does show up
maybe it won't take a brilliant rainbow
to illuminate my haze
thinking this
thinking that
mentally treading water
my head bending
and my heart squeezing
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hi! Comments! Your FACE is a comment! Huh?