Homespun
Televangelist
Hormone
That sneaks up on our senses
And because there are 4 billion people in this world just won�t seem to;
CHARACTER
I�ve lost the definition
Because some have accused me of being
Flattened
by the dictionary of
self
CHARACTER
My friends
Has never been and never will be the language of mannequins
Their lifeless limbs constructing the
Thesaurus
Bound by indifference that we tatter
At the impossible crossroad reached
That almost got away
CHARACTER
it�s the break of day
It�s this side
No side
Either side
An explanation of your side
Collected notions
Uncollected motions
Unkempt by alone
Our stride seems to be measured
From toe
To toe
But is really calibrated by our distance
From seeing
Twilight
Limelight
It�s your night
To see the time
The space
The eight minutes it takes for matter of fact to reach us
From the sun
It�s this,
This,
What�s it called?
AHHHHH yess.
INTELLECT.
CHARACTER
It�s dark
The exit signs
carry you only to the reprinted
where holding the world in your hands is outdated
and stained
by angry people
screeching
Don�t Don�t don�t
So instead, you flee to
CHARACTER
If we don�t start now
It�s gonna plummet below minimum wage into
their beggin�; for pizzazz
instead of fallin� in love at flower shops
They�re taming their passions
instead of speaking the uncanny language of
abandon
Never abandon
Your
CHARACTER
CHARACTER
It�s squeamish
Elusive
And instead of putting a tracer on it
fearing the course of your own
Desires
You have to take a marker
Grab it
And high light
It
Ravage it
The muck
The irregularities
The injuries
will never cover up the seam that marks
the cadence
of your own heart.
So when you take that marker
Be it science
Or art
Or performance
Or living
You have to be reckless
On your page
YOU got to scrub so hard that your tablet hurts
Muscles are aching from the limitation of
CHARACTER
The body is sweating from the 106-degree fever of freedom.
And only when our sheets are gaping
With the holes written in
Burned in
From self,
From knowledge
From CHARACTER
Only then may we find together
And act to one another
We will lean on our elbows
Hand pressed
To each ear
To hear
The roar
Of yours and my
CHARACTER
The heart beating in our palms
Repeating
In syncopated beauty
That
We are now
Awake.
The second piece (on this side of the divider) is something I wrote the day after elections, prior to all the brouhaha and bouillabase.
November 8, 2000�.3:37PM, The Day after Elections