I have a pistol here, by this heart of mine
And you don't think I will but I just might
Gonna keep it close, you will see
That it's not for you, it's just for me
The rank black in all sunrise
And look-aways from lonely eyes
Desperation goes unsung
A crowded room that weighs a ton
The flat land where winter tries
To chill the earth until it might
Be hard enough to take me in
With arbor kill and violins.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Nabi
you don't know what it is
no you don't know what it is
what we're waiting for
patiently waiting for
what we're waiting for
what we're waiting for…..
now, what would make you want a dream like that?
and what do you keep under your hat?
and you may be one of many or you may be more intact
but no one's going to tell you and that's a fact
i don't know why you called
we've been through this before
you're just a little worried, that's all
a little lonely....
and
you don't know what it is
you don't know
no, you don't know
no, you don't know
what it is
BUT
you stood right here and wished that god would set you clear
and then----then----then
you prayed so i could hear,
said that was the gift.
now darkness comes in threes
so it's you, your sister and me
and
there's enough to make amends but not enough to make us friends
you, your sister and me.
still, you don't know what it is
the faithful failing kiss
and the gypsy, moribund, hanging by his charm
and this D 55 which always comes alive
but you don't know it....
so, you won't go there for awhile
you've got no grace, you've got no style
now, if you have the truth, well, i'd love to see the proof
but you just stand there and act aloof
and
and
and
and you don't know what it is
you're still dreaming your way out of all of this
but you have the right so, be here by sunday night
just don't tell a soul that he died
i said don't tell a soul that you lied
i said don't
tell
a
soul
that you
tried.
no you don't know what it is
what we're waiting for
patiently waiting for
what we're waiting for
what we're waiting for…..
now, what would make you want a dream like that?
and what do you keep under your hat?
and you may be one of many or you may be more intact
but no one's going to tell you and that's a fact
i don't know why you called
we've been through this before
you're just a little worried, that's all
a little lonely....
and
you don't know what it is
you don't know
no, you don't know
no, you don't know
what it is
BUT
you stood right here and wished that god would set you clear
and then----then----then
you prayed so i could hear,
said that was the gift.
now darkness comes in threes
so it's you, your sister and me
and
there's enough to make amends but not enough to make us friends
you, your sister and me.
still, you don't know what it is
the faithful failing kiss
and the gypsy, moribund, hanging by his charm
and this D 55 which always comes alive
but you don't know it....
so, you won't go there for awhile
you've got no grace, you've got no style
now, if you have the truth, well, i'd love to see the proof
but you just stand there and act aloof
and
and
and
and you don't know what it is
you're still dreaming your way out of all of this
but you have the right so, be here by sunday night
just don't tell a soul that he died
i said don't tell a soul that you lied
i said don't
tell
a
soul
that you
tried.
The Luther Lockwood Memorial Library
the luther lockwood memorial library:
under direct influence of the working class, joe pug and troy new york.
living in the shadow of something there is lenno's luther. tall, gaunt with a keen eye for the space he needs and where the ball can be played. curly, matted hair with a little sweat around the edges and a knee brace that feels a little like cheating. what you get, what you've got is the steady hand of decision making in the middle of the field and the distribution to the fleet footed and hard workers.
the crazies.
they're here, they're queer and we're getting used to it.
an every day occurrence and the ongoing assessment won't stop, no you don't stop. the coffee is cold and there are enough sticks in the yard to turn your stomach and to get you stuck up a tree.
she said it was a trudge, that with her there were fits and starts but with me it seemed like an everyday battle through the trench where there was no such thing as lifting your knees above the flatline-putting some distance between yourself and the past.
knees up mother broon....
when you figure it as choice over chance, the pressure increases. if you are in control then you are responsible. there is no more blame to place or credit to defer. there is only you and the more more you seek-the more you're sought.
travel is as tiring as you might think if you've ever rushed right along to the waiting. that's the part that you can't escape. nobody's timing is perfect and a phone call, a train whistle on a morning filled with characters and ankle pain.
it's starting to get away from us you know.
yes, i do.
the checklist, the letter writing, the griefandtheloss, the blackandthebroon.
there's also skittering along the rails and hoping i can talk gee into taking me to get something to eat.
and,"it is important throughout your life to proclaim your joy…"
under direct influence of the working class, joe pug and troy new york.
living in the shadow of something there is lenno's luther. tall, gaunt with a keen eye for the space he needs and where the ball can be played. curly, matted hair with a little sweat around the edges and a knee brace that feels a little like cheating. what you get, what you've got is the steady hand of decision making in the middle of the field and the distribution to the fleet footed and hard workers.
the crazies.
they're here, they're queer and we're getting used to it.
an every day occurrence and the ongoing assessment won't stop, no you don't stop. the coffee is cold and there are enough sticks in the yard to turn your stomach and to get you stuck up a tree.
she said it was a trudge, that with her there were fits and starts but with me it seemed like an everyday battle through the trench where there was no such thing as lifting your knees above the flatline-putting some distance between yourself and the past.
knees up mother broon....
when you figure it as choice over chance, the pressure increases. if you are in control then you are responsible. there is no more blame to place or credit to defer. there is only you and the more more you seek-the more you're sought.
travel is as tiring as you might think if you've ever rushed right along to the waiting. that's the part that you can't escape. nobody's timing is perfect and a phone call, a train whistle on a morning filled with characters and ankle pain.
it's starting to get away from us you know.
yes, i do.
the checklist, the letter writing, the griefandtheloss, the blackandthebroon.
there's also skittering along the rails and hoping i can talk gee into taking me to get something to eat.
and,"it is important throughout your life to proclaim your joy…"
That is all I see
there is always another mountain,
there is always another hill
there is nothing left of wishing
that can change all of it still
there is always another hill
there is nothing left of wishing
that can change all of it still
Your Obsession is Waiting
what do you do when the things that you've counted on for so very long don't work anymore?
i have been putting off so many things that i just don't feel like doing.
and now, it's just time.
time to do such things or leave them all behind.
little things add up to bigger things.
and even the little things in the distance are getting bigger and bigger.
like a shopping list the things tick out:
get organized
buy soap
fix the sink
give things away
sell things on ebay
go through the files
throw most of that shit out
get rid of the baggage
call the important ones
stop taking calls from the ones that aren't important
read music
think freely
speak honestly
enjoy beauty
laugh
play guitar
stop getting talked into things
live
love
stop hesitating
tell them
don't live in songs
call her
nevermind
make plans
keep promises
take risks
make a plan
stick to it
don't take yourself, or anyone else, for granted
tell them
sing
louder
smile
harder
cry
even if you just want to
think
clearer
work smarter
forget about "things"
don't worry about circles
take it to heart
then you can feel it
then
tell them
see if they'll tell you back
don't let her do that to you
don't let her
friend is not a four letter word
love is
the biggest mistakes are the "human-est" kind
and we all make them
make more decisions
don't worry if they're not perfect
don't worry when you're not perfect
you're not
neither is she
despite the bright and the shining
wait
something good will happen
move
something good will happen
try
something good will happen
think
something good will happen
feel
something good will happen
smile
something good will happen
sing
something good will happen
i have been putting off so many things that i just don't feel like doing.
and now, it's just time.
time to do such things or leave them all behind.
little things add up to bigger things.
and even the little things in the distance are getting bigger and bigger.
like a shopping list the things tick out:
get organized
buy soap
fix the sink
give things away
sell things on ebay
go through the files
throw most of that shit out
get rid of the baggage
call the important ones
stop taking calls from the ones that aren't important
read music
think freely
speak honestly
enjoy beauty
laugh
play guitar
stop getting talked into things
live
love
stop hesitating
tell them
don't live in songs
call her
nevermind
make plans
keep promises
take risks
make a plan
stick to it
don't take yourself, or anyone else, for granted
tell them
sing
louder
smile
harder
cry
even if you just want to
think
clearer
work smarter
forget about "things"
don't worry about circles
take it to heart
then you can feel it
then
tell them
see if they'll tell you back
don't let her do that to you
don't let her
friend is not a four letter word
love is
the biggest mistakes are the "human-est" kind
and we all make them
make more decisions
don't worry if they're not perfect
don't worry when you're not perfect
you're not
neither is she
despite the bright and the shining
wait
something good will happen
move
something good will happen
try
something good will happen
think
something good will happen
feel
something good will happen
smile
something good will happen
sing
something good will happen
Religion and Philosophy
i used to think that home was the woman
the one that let you lay in the crook her arm and talk about bob dylan
the one who was smart enough to think i am funny and
wise enough to tell me when to shut up
beautiful enough inside and out to make the other someones fade away
and strong enough to carry the both of us, if only at times
then i found out that some home is songs
songs that are so tangible you can hang your hat, or heart, on them.
songs that are a hand hold on a rock climb whether you are playing them or just listening
songs that give you a reason when there is no other reason
songs with a lyric or melody so perfect that you pour it into your heart on the hundredth listen as much as you did the first time.
and, by then, i knew that some home was these people
that you love of choice and not of obligation.
that's a different kind of home, but still an important kind
the kind of home that says, i will take you to the airport or the oral surgeon or the laundromat or the bikeshop or jamestown or starbucks or where ever you need to go.
the kind of home that calls you friend from behind a counter she can barely see over or leaves you a small brown bag of pastries just because he knows you like them. or sends a reply even though it's late because he knows you need it or hugs you when he sees you, or anytime you want him to.
and even though home might be where you're from
maybe it's more like where you're coming from
and that part is wide open.
the one that let you lay in the crook her arm and talk about bob dylan
the one who was smart enough to think i am funny and
wise enough to tell me when to shut up
beautiful enough inside and out to make the other someones fade away
and strong enough to carry the both of us, if only at times
then i found out that some home is songs
songs that are so tangible you can hang your hat, or heart, on them.
songs that are a hand hold on a rock climb whether you are playing them or just listening
songs that give you a reason when there is no other reason
songs with a lyric or melody so perfect that you pour it into your heart on the hundredth listen as much as you did the first time.
and, by then, i knew that some home was these people
that you love of choice and not of obligation.
that's a different kind of home, but still an important kind
the kind of home that says, i will take you to the airport or the oral surgeon or the laundromat or the bikeshop or jamestown or starbucks or where ever you need to go.
the kind of home that calls you friend from behind a counter she can barely see over or leaves you a small brown bag of pastries just because he knows you like them. or sends a reply even though it's late because he knows you need it or hugs you when he sees you, or anytime you want him to.
and even though home might be where you're from
maybe it's more like where you're coming from
and that part is wide open.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Hope
“Why did you stand there after we spoke? What were you looking for?” He asked
She smiled.
“I thought you would like to see the side of my back” she replied.
He thought about it for a second, “Do you mean your backside?”
“Is that how you say?”
He smiled. “That is how you say.”
For the past two weeks he was unable to think much of anything besides the word “Julia.”
Life is a collection of very small moments and the one which had captured his mind was a short conversation he’d had two weeks ago climbing out of the pool. She was there as often she had been, squinting at everything.
Finally he had spoken to her. It was not much more than a hello but it evolved into a quick little “what do you study/are you Chinese/where are you from?”
She squinted responses of:
“English”
“No” and
“Korea, South Korea. I am here to study English.”
Her English was stilted but still far better than his Korean.
He didn’t think much of it until it was time for the pool to close and all were gathered around the lifeguard retrieving the ID cards that are required for admittance to the giant pool of sickly chlorine blue.
She moved with purpose, first toward the aluminum bleachers and then, bright red towel in had and white-rimmed glasses in place- she approached him directly. So much so that he was taken back a bit.
“My name is Julia!” Her voice was excited and pointed. She thrust her hand forward and gripped his firmly as he said, “Henry.”
They walked toward the locker rooms together with chitchat and smiles. They both felt an ease that was too soon to comment upon.
So, each day he found his way to the pool armed with a giddy hope that he’d see her.
The first week passed and he thought of how his world was rife with instant gratification and pushed that sense down.
The next week passed and he was finding too much of a frown. Did she go back to Korea?
Finally he walked through the doors and saw her swimming. Her blue and tan suit that was just a bit too small. Just enough to show a little more than she probably should have. It was enough to catch a fella’s eye, that’s for sure.
It caught his eye, over and over again.
It had been a seemingly long time, more than two weeks, but his hopes were not dimmed. His hopes were bright. She seemed to exude energy directly to him. That was a strange part. He swam more quickly knowing she was in the pool. He felt better rested, better prepared even.
He carefully watched as she left the pool and approached his lane. He flagged her down.
“Julia!” he smiled.
“Oh! Hello! I have not been here for two weeks!” she said.
“I know, I know” he replied.
The niceties passed back and forth and she squatted to speak to him. The guys in the lane next door were perplexed as to why she stopped and why she stayed. They chattered in Chinese to one another and she shot them a quick look after a while. She smiled easily and stared into his eyes. He was trying to force himself to ask her out, “just say the words,” his brain screamed. But nothing but politeness and she eventually excused herself. She stood a few feet away, her back toward him and lingered.
He daydreamed she wanted him to look.
He looked.
He stared.
He memorized.
The next time he wouldn’t hesitate to ask.
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