Friday, October 21, 2011

Play crack the sky;

Send out the sos call
a quarter past four in the morning
the storm broke the second anchor line
four months at sea
four months of calm seas to be pounded
in the shallows off the tip of montauk point 
the calm rows, they travel
fast and alone
100 foot faces of God's good ocean
gone wrong
what they call love is a risk
you always get hit out of nowhere
by some wave
and end up on your own.


the hole in the hull defied the crews attempt
to bail us out
but a flood in the engine
half buried the bow


your tongue is a rudder
it steers the whole ship
sends your words past your lips
or keeps them safe behind your teeth
but the wrong words will strand you
come off course while you sleep
sweep your boat out to sea
or dashed to bits on the reef


the vessels groans,
the ocean pressures it's frame
to the port I see the lighthouse 
through the sleet and the rain,
and I wish for one more day to give my love and repay debts
the morning finds our bodies washed up 30 miles west


they say that the captain stays fast with the ship
thru still and storm
but this ain't the dakota
and the water's cold
won't have to fight for long


this is the end
this story's old but it goes on and on
until we disappear
calm me and let me taste the salt you breathed
while you were underneath
i am the one who haunts your dreams of mountains
sunk below the sea
i spoke the words but never
gave a thought to what
they all could mean
i know that this is what you want
a funeral keeps both of us apart
you know that you are not a lone
need you like water in my lungs


this story's old but it goes on and on
until we disappear
calm me and let me taste
the salt you breathed while you were underneath
i spoke the words but never gave a thought
to what they all could mean
i know that this is what you want
a funeral keeps both of us apart
you know that you are not alone
need you like water in my lungs



Monday, October 10, 2011

I Wish I Was The Moon.

When I was driving to Irvine last Thursday night, & Thad's forehead was on his knees and it was just my iPod, my iced coffee, the moon, and myself, it hit me that maybe I'm in the wrong profession. Was I destined to be a trucker and I missed my calling? I could've driven all night and the whole next day through and been just as elated as I had when we left the In In Out drive thru. You know. The promise of going far, far away. The way the excitement of a road trip peaks in the first hour and never quite comes back? I never had that. Not this time.

I listened to the same 10 songs over and over and felt like I was racing the moon to California. It occurred to me then -- somewhere between Blythe and Chiriaco Summit, somewhere after the "STATE PRISON 2 MILES" sign and the "DO NOT PICK UP HITCHIKERS" sign -- that I have not felt altogether myself lately.

I felt strange being alone in the desert. Unavailable. I felt like a phone off the hook. I felt awkward, with only myself to attend to. I revisited winding paths of daydreams I used to have. How long had it been since I'd daydreamed?

Daydreams say a lot about a person. They are concious choices. Where you want to be, what you want to say, the things you want to have, re-creations of things you wished you could have done/said/felt. It was like being re-introduced to myself.

Thankfully, by the time we made it to Irvine I was too delirious to think much of anything, other than how comfortable Sue's couch felt.

Thad and I are extremely grateful for Sue and Lane. I have never left an encounter with them without having been sharpened/uplifted/encouraged. It's also really nice having an excuse to go to Disneyland. The way reading Hemingway tastes like salt, being at Disneyland feels like childhood happy. Lane and I were discussing how even the dirty water/gunpowder smell of Pirates of the Carribbean feels magical.

So we had a long and tiring weekend, and Thad came home sick, but it was good for us.

It's just that now I'm here and I don't know what to do.