It happens, empty and full you can hardly breathe or stand to look at the words as they are being written. You wait, and you tend. But when am i to start stretching again? Step over the oil leak; the rainbow is gone, the sun has retreated. Stifle, stifled, rifle through the ephemera. Get up!and run towards something useful.
i can no longer remember the names of the dogs that slept loudly in homemade pens nestling restlessly in torn up paper from the hands of my father or my father’s secretary. i can see faces, dog’s faces and hear the leathery snap of my grandfather’s hand but i no longer know their names. the father of my father, quick to anger (in general) quick to forgive (me, when i broke his homemade fence or peed my pants while i played with my cousin). he learned how to drive a whip (for his sons) a car (for his wife) a tractor (for his trade) angry words (for his family) kind words (for his neighbor). his most loyal companions would pile quail at his feet and beg for some love. he was always quick to give it to them. he knew them. his wife, slow to anger, quick to love; he didn’t know what to do with her. she was the caretaker and the day her leg was hurt in the barn he didn’t know what to do. he watched, frantically. he watched slowly. he watched my mother’s hands, ones i had always known to be gentle. what is gentle to a farmer?
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Her heart of darkness is a bird named Sorrow. He flaps his wings once for no Twice for tears Three times, just for exercise.
No,
Sorrow flaps twice and the eardrums of those passing by Are beaten.
"rootsies" is a name i dreamed and now i'm using it to mean a community of words and images and experiments with light and polaroids and thoughts on my heritage and some observations on life and maybe on truth and on what beauty is and what it might not be and sometimes love, and sometimes grief family, friends, home(is where the heart is) and where my heart is. full.