the last thing You said was the boat was rocking
rocking him to sleep
rocking on his shoulder
Paleo wrote today:
i have known a version of exhaustion. i bet you have too. a tall wall we
rest against, hit our head against, let it hold us in its brick hands. i
have spraypainted the outlines of white bluebirds on its chest, and i have
sighed an infinite sigh as it stayed me in its rumba. from here i can see
those others who lean into the far end of that rope, against the hedges of
that maze, mazes of their own making, digging their hands through the gnarl,
finding the fingers of others likewise reaching through from some far other
side. consider this the little note those fingers might be carrying
mightily, like the kind we used to pass down the line in 7th and 8th grade,
as our young blood was first just beginning to bubble over.
i am in ypsilanti. there is a chihuahua half-sitting on my foot. and i admit
i miss her. like a thousand trains i miss her.
and you are so far away. as far as i am now from who i was forever ago.
would i even like me i wonder? that kid that couldn't be told anything by
anyone he knew so much? the one making a fashion of acne, with his blue
backpack sharpied all to hell like an Amaco bathroom. or would i just look
old to him? drained? dragon breath. really the only person i've ever wanted
to please is that one, that kid in the eye of the storm when shit was really
bad, when notes were not just notes, and they got passed fast and people got
passed over. goldibollocks to the world. lovers, brothers, friends. people
think they're measuring you they're just measuring themself. yet there is
one judgment you hang on. way back when forever ago they call, and we are
the echo of that calling, tumbling outward through time. would *he* of all
people like me?
or would he see me and despair? pull out another eyelash and think:
*that*is who i will be?
secretly i think he'd dig me. as much as anyone digs anyone. and i'd punch
his shoulder and tell him to hang in there.
a list of things to believe in:
1. the sadness of mean people.
3. a beautiful field with a faroff house.
4. the happiness you imagine grows there.
6. the leaves of the tree speak only when spoken to.
7. roots (are made of time).
8. wings (are made of moments).
9. a good punch in the shoulder.
I wrote back:
i have grown to love, in part, everything you do
and i have a leopard in my feet that wants to share
of everything you do
with the world
(when in truth the first time I saw you in person I was not sure. you seemed high on flight and serious tones were not my flavor suit that day. I needed race and race and road trip and a midnight motel glory to help me to tune in)
(much again better, a fan well earned than one at first dog-like and lapping what you do)
[ don't worry: i like dogs. and laps]
joel told me
that you told him
that it was not to be big
but to be great
for like a rock you stood your ground.
and I can share stories with my husband of trains of miss and
chihuahuas licking toes
I'm moving to brooklyn & you are touring. tearing. tapestry-ing across the america shaped universe to play your part.
i have so many questions.
i am making music. out my ear lobes.
it's a lonely cold endeavor
hands, as you say
to help me loose my grounding,
to help me play with nothing sand-dunes,
to help me make the tax collectors tap their feet.
i am writing love songs with one voice without a band
and I'm asking out
which i hope you never answer
but what do i have to do i have to
let the music out
i bought my first paleo album today
death and taxes
now, i know i'm emotional because You is gone
but when I saw it was only
i almost cried