A bird has died

A bird has died

His insides, rought, to be outside looking in in

But with these roads we've ever skied

The hell he dwelleth in?

The machine in man and bird did fuse

A severance of fairing place

Displaced by modern day suffuse

Our ownership in space

My little bird who died today

I'll kiss your beak again

And whisper with a soft dismay

The apologies I send

Larry

Squalid and hungry

(Refine the un-refineable?)

Why is it always in the bookish dank of my room?

Why can't I see the immeasurable oblivion that shattered the glass jar of this man's soul?

There was thirst, hunger, death, (fruit)

Every second felt like a life-age of us, like the pecking of a bird to the brain of a man, or shelled imposter of a once thought..."man"

A soured soul

The debris he calls his harvest

Lay limp in Larry's lap

I idle, I idle

That bitten mouth can still kiss

Pale and blind, nothing new, not to the carrier

Not to this space

His hands were twisted like shadows

He fathered his everything

He mothered his nothingness

Impervious I bided, at the service of the the service-less

Standing like the skipper in the prow of this emptied vessel

grumblings

So much dirt in this day; I still can't shake it loose.  I hated today. The stink of it clings close to me like a popcorn hull in the hollowed cavern of a begotten wisdom tooth.  Have you ever had one of those 8 hour shifts where it is almost painful the way that time seemingly slows around you? Have you sat in that chair, behind that desk, and had an almost out-of-body misery that solely comes from the unforgiving desire to be anywhere other than where you are. Today was that day.  Today was that dull ache in time.  Maybe it's the weather I don't know. 

It all started on the bus ride in to work.  Waiting at the bus stop with my fellow clones, I found myself wanting to ask the bleach blonde 40-something if she liked the way the dew on the leaf of the branch between our neighboring heads held the sunlight.  I wanted to sit down on a bench without smiling at anyone.  I wanted to fart.  I wanted to kick in the glass at the base of the waiting hut, but I couldn't...could I?  I was consumed today from 8:30 - 8:45 with a desire to wake up in a way that feels or shares or makes loud noises.  But, I had to go to work...I didn't want work today.  I wondered what it would feel like to take the bus that stopped behind mine to Roseville and just walk around that city for the day.  No new accents or culture shocks, just different, just temporary freedom and will.  What would the acceptance and commitment to that course of inherently "contrary" action feel like?  I wanted to know today.  I guess I am just bored.  I realized today that the deepest hole a man can dig is when he allows himself to wallow in what he would consider his dull nothingness.  It isn't attractive and I knew that...I know that. Why don't people hold doors for me in the skyway?  Why can't people see how great it is to give a smile that is all heart, genuine warmth, no more stiff, stiff, stiff.  I just want a smile that says I am happy you are human and you are in my sights and so I will smile; unreservedly.  We could be in a momentary peace when we look at one another.  I want to always hide pretension and tight-lipped lies.  How are YOU (and I want to stick around for the answer and ask another, always I want to ask another). 

Why do people wear bluetooths?  

An incoherent rant from a heart that tasted too much sourness; too much "of the world-ness".  Tomorrow's forecast is going to have to call for sunnier songs that we can sing together.  Our whispers could be bold. I still love to smile:)

Relax every part of your body tonight and know that we are in it...

My beautiful country is quiet...right now. 

Thinly woven strands of twine

Thinly woven strands of twine

Around the branch which age benign

Has treated memories long of time

With sorted width and common sign

 

Listless days now turn each hour

Embittered taste like apple sour

Amidst this empty space I scour

At all the naught still yet to flower

 

Her life in mine seemed greater still

As rain cascades the window sill

On my deserved day that seems to will

My every thought on her; I mill

 

Heavy-eyed in wretchedness

Derisive dust, contemptuous

Beneath my heels the swollenness

Of all the her there is to miss

 

To thinly woven strands of twine

Your branches hate as they malign

And draw away my dancing eye

Grim, this day, that was once mine

"If slaughterhouses had glass walls, everyone would be vegetarian" - Linda McCartney

The emergin' blogging virgin

As I was debating what path to take on this first, of hopefully many, blogs it occurred to me that while my head may be reeling with constipated thoughts on popular culture, animal rights, war, global warming, notable books, etc. I think it is foundational that I just start with me.  Because really, what is the point of all my blabbering if you don't know who I am.  So, let's get right into it pee pees.

I am 27 year old Minneapolis addict (having been here 3 years). I was born in a small bluff encrusted city of 25,000; Winona, MN.  I come from fairly modest means, raised in a family that, to this day, has yet to discover functionality (we are a work in progress).  I am the youngest in my family, the middle child being 8 minutes older than me, my twin sister Mandy, and my oldest sister is a 31 year old Korean-American adopted into our family from infancy. 

 I have always been a well-mannered, passive, smiley, polite, empathetic, generous, but nervous guy.  The things that I am attracted to most in life are full of foolishness and whimsy. I rarely stray from abstract, useless daydreams.  ART: I love surrealism (mostly Magritte) and writing poetry and maybe blogging??  MUSIC: I have, in my later years, become increasingly more attracted to ethereal and folky music (Sigur Ros, Joanna Newsome, Amiina, Sufjan Stevens, Sam Beam, Bonnie "Prince" Billy, Cocorosie, and others).  MOVIES: Alongside that I am a very big fan of mockumentaries, period films, and 80's comedies. QUIRKY HABITS: I love to do impressions and voices (which I have for virtually every animal I know), quote movies, obsess, hunt, and pine for new bands to love.  I also apologize to chairs I bump into as well as ants and spiders before my wife makes me end them.

I have been married for a little over 3 years now to my deepest love and best friend, Brita.  She is woman to love.  We are foundationally yoked in our unending love for God and the mystery that is our search to know each other...daily...to know each other.  I really like her hands and quiet discernment. Where I am deficient she has fruit and where she has fruit I am always eating.  I love her with every fiber of my cereal.  I also have a solid personal investment in her boobs.

The other stuff will come later.  It's late and my wife has a sore back that seems to ache more and more with each passing minute.  It's funny how that kind of pain gets worse the more she finds me seduced with other things (this blog for example).  She likes to play this hand.

And so for tonight I wish you every little good and thank you for reading, unless of course your driving, in which case just get off your fancy internet phone already and watch the fudgin' road...please and thank you.

Be well and see you soon.