May 1, 2003

• How You See Things

   

  You are in the dark corner of the world

  Where cobwebs grow thick and memories

  Grow thicker.

   

  You are in a bowl where fish swim or

  Rather float.

   

  You are cracked in places, creeping like veins

  Over your brain and even deeper places

  Spilling kith and kin.

   

  But life is more than you think.

   

  For every hundredth break and misshapen hand,

  A child is born in a manger.

  For every lamentation, a song.

  But people are caught in frozen moments of jocularity

  Long seconds of hilarity -

  Living moments of clarity. 

         

      It’s perpetual,

      If you let it be.

   

  People are sincere if you’ll let them be.

  Sometimes

  Smiles are smiles

  Laughter is laughter.

   

  Catch it and cup it in your hands

  Colors flying like the smile that broke

  Across dry land or
  Noah’s grizzled face.

   

  

  Sticks

  You thought you were sleeping but in reality, you’re falling.  Open your eyes and see your pj’s flutter with a rapid wind.  Your hair is air-mussed beyond belief and with your back to the ground, you see the sky, pulling away distant.  You fall for a time and the thrill is gone and now you’re in some strange new realm of bizarre monotony, the plunging act grown old.  So, you look at your hands and inspect your nails.  You consider where they’ve been, each crack and line some mark of hokey destiny.  Perhaps the middle swirl of your right thumb marks you for this peculiar day. 

  And like that, a new world, your eyes hit by a novel light.  With a thud not unlike that of stacks of paper slammed on a desk, your back finds the solid surety of ground.  No bruises or bumps, you stand amazed at your good fortune.  What strange new world is this.  Lines, colored light-blue, streak across an opaque sky, cartoon clouds streaking with red smudges. 

  A crowd comes tiptoeing your way and they look in amazement.  You look in amazement too at these big, round-headed folk with dots for eyes and loopy lines for smiles and frowns.  For them, every expression is amplified fivefold and there’s not a lot of subtlety.  Words come by way of big bubbles and your thoughts, above your head for the world to see.

  A paper sun – or is it a moon – offering light, you stand up, shake skinny hands and get your bearings.  The world is black, white with blue lines all over.  Off to the western horizon, the margins keep everything in place.

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  Link  Harper’s Index for March:  Fun

  Matt11:28

  • 2:55 am
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