Thursday, December 26, 2013

i've been meaning to ask about that.

[My eyes and I, we don't always see the same, we don't always seem the same.
It seems I've lost my propensity for foresight, for farsightedness, or any sightedness for that matter.]

Can we really calculate our catharsis into twelve steps or less? I'd bet on it.
 I'd better, for posterity and self-preservation, but there's really no fun in playing cavalier for pretend.
But, while we're bartering, I'd trade this in for any old love song. I'd trade this in for any basket
or barrel of words exchanged with anyone willing to hear it. All this language inside me is pleading to
bleed into vowels and sounds and keystrokes, and I don't have to chase them out with my tongue.
I can be unnerved, and send all this words out to the curb, into the night, into the universe, vacant or not in the night.

You can bet they're out there,
Gunning for
Looking for
any signs of science, for any signs of a hope and colors and rays of light,
You can bet they've all been there.

When the sound slides back on the crest of its wave, we'll hear of the harrowing adventures,
chasing ghosts in Southern New Mexico, the bold Southwest colors of the tablecloth, the Apache pendants,
all these things our songs and words will bring back.
And I'll carve all the answers into this hollow in my chest, gaping and manifest.
        Finally, you arrived.
        Fine, you were right.

God is it odd for a Thursday night, but won't you tell me a bit about yourself?
Anyways, there are a few things you should know before the show. All these things I say to stay sane, I don't know how much I mean them or how much they can mean to anyone but me, but I have to say I'm here
because I'm out of God back home. Now that I'm all grown up, welcome dear, welcome dear to your own home. Come a little closer.

You can bet I'm out there
looking for
any signs of you, any signs of a glimmer of brown eyes and rays of light.
Before all my words come back home.