Thursday, December 30, 2010
was keeping me up last nite --
it wasnt my heart
because things like that dont happen
but there was a soft clicking thumping noise
that seemed to be coming from below
it could have been the bed springs
but it was too steady
i heard it every time i closed my eyes
but every time i opened them
it was gone, perhaps
by the straw that broke the camel's back
of one extra sensation too many --
a noise so quiet
to be rubbed out by the faintest bit of sight.
it could have been from the apartment below
but i dont think so --
it felt close and tight
i'm trained to think about these things, to think about
whats going on in my head when i hear sounds
or other things
and the only thing that i can imagine
this had to do with
is my heart
but then again,
things like that dont really happen --
only in books --
so i'll have to make sure
i write it down
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
we look in from the outside we look in through glass windows shaded frosted we look in builders of bridges makers of music makers of buildings and houses sometimes we build houses with girls we like that but it isn't often we make things fix things play a tune sculpt a vision from clay we are this boy nation we love you we love each other we forgive and forget we forge and forge ahead we protect and serve with girls and sometimes we do not understand you we find you lack logic you don't you rely too much on emotion
emotion doesn't get a bridge built but it will save a child from a burning building intersect where do we meet in this fight this impasse toward equality emotion gets a bridge built you just told me because i get you from here to there
we do live on love you say without love i would not put a nail to a piece of wood to house you to comfort you not a brick to a fireplace to warm you would not chop wood without love sometimes self love when you are not here you can build your own house please do it for me
without love i would not sew a costume for the play i would not attend the opera with you though i hate it without love i would not even sleep with you because you do not want me
healing melding who are you
i am a girl with a boy's heart
i would rather hang with a thousand boys and a tailgate full of beer than not except when i see the exquisite beauty of that delicate necklace you made for me
Friday, December 24, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Before reaching the front door of the market, two women stopped Robin and asked her if she had any change. She looked into their eyes. Aliens! She wasn't quite sure, but she thought maybe planet Init or Sutura. Those creatures had everything. They were trying to help humans, but found we couldn't be trusted with their technology. We fight too much. On Init and Sutura, the aliens were happy. They didn't fight. They were too busy having fun.
While we watch them, they watch us! Photo from The Helix, whom very generously posed for this photo op.
Uncle Albert, private collection, The Internets
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
I met a man who said he could help. An angel. I almost thought I could see his wings. I was in trouble. I had lost everything to an American economy that crumbled around me. I was terrified, wandering. I wanted to be someplace different. Anywhere. I felt his feathers flutter around me and I believed him.
He said the magic words, "I have a place on the Mississippi Bayous. You really have to see it."
Tears sprang to my eyes. Did he say that? Could this be happening? After all the grief, the loss, the rebuilding, the falling apart, would I finally get to the water to find that piece of myself I lost at seven years old?
I simply said, trying not to cry, "I have dreamed of seeing the Bayous since I was a child."
He showed me pictures of his home in Mississippi. I touched them longingly.
"Mississippi. Pack a bag. Let's go."
I went. I was so desperate to be free from years of pain and struggle, I got into his car and we drove. And drove. And drove. Past bright beaches, miles and miles of unspoiled surf. I cried to myself. I put my head out the window and kissed the sun.
We drove up to his house. It was on stilts because of the floods. I had been there before a thousand times in my heart. I got out of the car and walked right out to the edge of the creation.
I was in heaven. I couldn't believe it. I was standing at the water of the Mississipi Bayous. I made it. I clapped my hands toward the skies. Oh magnificent you, whose name I do not know!
The man brought me a chair. He was kind, charming even. Helpful. We sat outside and I let the sight of the bayous pour itself into my soul.
He pulled his wings down; they fell into a heap at my feet.
"Were you abused growing up?" The man asked casually.
I made a mistake and the devil rose up.
I said, "Some stuff went on."
He had been an Army psychologist. I didn't realize I had opened the door to a room for him to dismantle me in. The warm air was still. I changed the subject.
"I can't believe I'm here. Thank you. Thank you so much for this."
"So," he was inside the room. "What position did your abuser have you in? How did he hold you? Did he make you strip?"
With those words he delivered a nearly fatal blow to my psyche. My hands were shaking and I struggled to form words. His face changed, became contorted.
"I don't talk about that." I forced the words out.
He asked another round of questions meant to systematically wear me down. Graphic and horrible. I sat silent. Looking out over the Bayous, looking for a piece of me.
"Time for dinner!" his voice boomed. He stood up.
"Elks Club! There's a dance."
I went. In a silent childhood speechless daze, I went.
It was Halloween. People wore magical costumes. Mardi Gras costumes. They were so warm, jolly. They talked to me. I was the shy child in the wonderland of another culture. A woman in a fairy costume sat next to me and asked if I wanted to dance. I said yes. I watched her whirl around, her gossamer wings seemed real. She laughed and held my hands.
The man came onto the dance floor and said we had to go. I left with him We drove to his house. He yelled at me. He told me I was disgusting. He told me I liked being assaulted as a child. And now I was a pervert for dancing with a woman. He loomed over me, judge and jury. The demons of my life danced around his head.
"We're leaving tonight!" He bellowed.
I ran out to the water. In the dark, I kneeled at the edge of creation. I threw my tears at the delta. I reached my hand into the mud and wiped it on my jeans. I found that missing piece of me in the dirt, the terror, the silent room of a child who had been given over. It would get darker after that, but not for long.
The bayous returned that piece of me, had held it close, and set me free.
by Robin Sneed, From The American Daughter
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
”Yooooooou’re….. at a crossroads.” This line was delivered while Shatner was actually at a crossroads on his trusted steed, with direction posts pointing to “College”, “Own Business”, “Doctor” and “Lawyer”.
”By making this decision and by being here today, you have shown that you have the courage to make something of yourself. Follow the instructions given to you by your superiors and you will have all the tools to make a success of your life.”
Then shit started going downhill. Every single one of my sales had been cancelled. The guy with the cement turned out to be self employed, meaning that he was ineligible for the loan deal. Even the blind woman decided against pursuing the sale. Maybe she saw the light? Though I suspect that even a blind person could see that paying that sort of money for a vacuum cleaner was pretty stupid.