April 11, 2013
Ramble
I am willful and my mind is scattered. I have nothing to write about at present though my moleskine is filling with ideas and treatments. short thoughts. Once, when I was young I thought to be a cartoonist was the ideal for me – but I made a better comedian and only made the family laugh once at the kitchen table – I am not depressed but hauntingly even. Not going insane is a new thing for me and I haven’t been enjoying the anxiety that comes with waiting for the other side of this enjoyment. The drugs work but I don’t like how they work – this is normal. Call me Mr. Jones.
But my main ambition as a child was to be a writer and catalog what made my aspect seem to feel as though I had been ill my whole life. I still feel that way and now am broken by this and an SUV that blew off a stop sign. Such is life.
Listening to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with my family while my son works on a research report on Beethoven and this is a wonderful moment. I can never write to Beethoven – as if he had said everything that there is to say and the power with which he says it cannot be matched.
I recently finished a longer poem – long for me stretching to three pages and am now mostly concerned about where to place it.
June 17, 2011
a little on the self
Last night, after making love, outside smoking and the coyotes were getting close, I had my 1911 but after midnight it is too loud – we went inside. Listened to them get ever closer as we fell to sleep.
Now I am looking for a good varmint rifle – something in a .223 as I refuse to be eaten by an animal.
I don’t think of myself as a contradiction but as myself – unique as all people should be and alike as all humans are.
a Poet, Buddhist, gun lover, biker, romantic, cripple – these are not contradictions and I practice non-violence in balance to the gun I carry on my side.
Yesterday I got read a smallish version of the riot act by a very good friend for referring to myself as a cripple. He said he winces a bit every time I say it and that I need to find a better descriptor. Maybe he is right – certainly he is honest, intelligent and an excellent friend. It is that I feel crippled, I feel like a Quasimodo hanging from the bell tower yelling “Sanctuary! Sanctuary!” – but I know that I am not a cripple but have been crippled – therein lies a a major difference. In terms of strength and size I am capable of being a monster, frightening to some who don’t know me and gentle and kind to those who do. The leg has been shortened and crippled, it has been cut and lives on in pain but when need be I still pick up and hold my seven year old to calm his fears, his tears and his to remind him that no matter how he grows – he is loved deeply and completely. I am not a cripple and as was pointed out by my friend – I would bust the chops of anyone who said so to my face – I have been disabled, but not defeated.
February 3, 2010
unencumbered
I am unencumbered by two inches
of my right leg
just as Jerry Garcia was unencumbered
by a middle finger
and Indian Larry by his pinkie
I am unencumbered by thought or want
from the single life of chasing
the girls and boys around
not unlike how death rattles free
our common concerns
the platitudes of willful resemblance 