a leak

fsss...

just a little hole,

a slight imperfection...

letting out the pressure, the power, the purpose.

get off my yard.

get off my yard.

off.

I'm not angry. Anger is unproductive.

I'm confused. I don't get it. I don't get the look, the lies, the phrases.

REEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAL.

like a body. broken by traffic. bullets. be as real as the cadaver of my grandfather. immediate. say something that you feel. my grandfather couldn't feel, so I felt him. static. stuffed. candle cold. be something significant. not simply something easy. please, don't be comfortable.

i don't care to have it.

because you don't know, obviously, what makes me comfortable. intention, intention, intention.

fsssss...

a leak, a break-

a sleek mistake.

get over it.

hoo

I feel like I just had a heart attack. melodramaaaa

your flight fell twenty feet inflight and your eastern soul got ripped out, still,

noise noise noise noise noisen,

poison.

If something is important to you. PLEASE.

make it so.

make it so. I know, I know I say that now. I KNOW. I get it. I'm learning. I'm aching. I'm aging. I feel the tug. When I don't sleep well, and I wake fitful, wretched.

I'm spitballing now. I'm adorned with paper-lantern-post-its. crinkly fur. pastel petals, pin-pricked to my first shirt. my first shirt. each note a screeching misspelled secret that I don't believe. Yet, I keep writing them. Each mirrored surface in double. once for my ego, once for my echo. both to spurn me.

cold pockets. I keep them empty.

What is it that I do? I push the boundaries. Mine. Of course I'm alone. Not a question. Geometry. When you shift the fabric towards the shape of a cone. A shuddering speed, one direction, til there is really only one space to sit in, and then you thrust your sword in that last crevice of attention. early blindness. always blindness. blurredness. assuredness.

cold pockets. If they were full, the silhouette would be ruined.

I think that I am really the soul of some monk of me traveling well into another town/country/custom. get it?

He was sailing away from the coast with the strict task of belief. To listen, to sit, to liquify- and I still stuck at the door of our departure, realizing what my home looked like from a few steps away in the yard. Rotating like an owl-head, piercing the nostalgia again and again, with my body and my plans LEAGUES ahead.

Maybe I should go. Amongst the animals.

Side note, someone put me on a rack and Strrre-----tch me. I feel like my boots look.

HEART, RESTART, HEART, RESTART.

fall

Pressure drop in time,

my bones can rest forever.

I sit and behave.

Oh, the leaves of trees!

Your chatter calms my senses.

I fear the winter.

Autumn, my kindred,

your face seems brighter to me:

ev'rytime we meet.

just call the number on your screen

beyond a doubt,

the scariest means of living:

on an edge, of a crack, of a sliver of a hope.

I climb a tree,

beyond the hearty trunk,

above the muscular lower branches,

past the lofty conopy,

until I stand, drifting,

balancing on the smiling leaves.

Like a color, I dance in the sunlight.

The greenscape is the stage of my ballet.

I suspend time, I leap, I dive,

I fall in the busy shadows.

To kill my blinking eyes and fluttering pulse,

I sink inside. Inside my head, my blood, my traveller.

Seeking, a seeker, and destroying, a destroyer.

I am a very model of a modern major generalization.

Smile, please, you don't know how beautiful you are when you do...

don't skip that. please. just practise now. just now. just then. just again.

smile and know what a secret garden you are. a little treasure, hidden away.

hidden away?

smile for me when I don't know how you are.

you should not speak, if you are being aloud. just smile.

I am getting closer now. to the breach. the threshold.

building up to the point where judgement and dreams

pave roads and build buidlings of light.

blinding

simple

beyond

expanding

exhaling

penetrating

devastating

light.

®®®®®®

Travel to your childhood in an effort,

not to capture, or comfort.

but to build, to tribute. smile again now.

and once again.

®®®®®®

inside a moment. you kill me. completely. where are you? what did you do and how?

where is that seed in your eyes? where is that sorrow in your silence?

I know, I know. smile please, this is awkward.

don't leave. don't. I can't speak.

you're leaving. I'm watching. I can't watch. the bricks swallow my day.

You are eclipsed by naught. I don't know what to think.

You are shoved in an ever-busying collection of daylight, rain, and wet socks.

come back and kill me. come back and yell that name I know you have for me.

O, now I'm sick.

O, now I'm sick. I love you for no reason.

He won't protest. He will sit and learn with everyone else.

He won't cause a fuss. I promise. This never happens. (exhales)

See his hat, his cotton tie, pressed trousers and shoes he tied himself!

®®®®®®

You don't see it. But I built a boat for you. thirty years from now.

A boat wrought of dark wood, like a viking ship in a museum.

It is swift as glances, stealing through the night to capture you.

It's name is Danger and it will not rest in any harbor.

Possessed with curiosity, the ship wills the crew onward.

You stand with the fire at your back, letting the salt mine your blinking eyelids.

Your love stands for an entire night with a hand just above of your shoulder:

wanting so bad to rest.

wanting so bad to swoon.

The ship rocks in a storm and the hand glances your back.

Glancing, innocently, you spy your love hiding.

®®®®®®

good.

It Gives, It Gives!

tender branches,

will not hold,

something stronger,

warning told.

give me courage,

give me blood,

thought I made you

out of mud.

I've got itches,

in my eyes,

thought I made you,

out of flies.

IT GIVES, MY SOUL GIVES,

IT WILL NOT HOLD,

IT WILL NOT HOLD!

IT GIVES, MY BRANCHES BREAK,

THEY WILL FALL DOWN,

THEY WILL FALL DOWN!

I have a wish,

a crude deception.

Killing me,

You kill my question!

Erase my marks,

And drown my mem'ry!

I have a field,

bury me, give me!

I am a stone,

I am a feeling.

I am alone,

I can't stop stealing.

IT GIVES, MY SOUL GIVES,

IT WILL NOT HOLD,

IT WILL NOT HOLD!

IT GIVES, MY BRANCHES BREAK,

THEY WILL FALL DOWN,

THEY WILL FALL DOWN!

•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•∫•

I am the least important issue in my day. I am sure that I should consider myself at least a bit higher on the list.

But I still find the vanity to be a clothes horse. the hypocrisy!

good night. Go be someone.

Getting Back Into a Cocoon

I suppose honesty, as always, can be my best friend.

It will support me in a fault, it will keep my vision clear. No secrets.

Pardon me already for my words, I have been afraid, as usual, of speaking my mind. I never really get the courage for most things. Decisions. Opinions. Emotions. It gets me in TERRIBLE situations. I hurt people, I let people down, I leave people stranded. Lack of courage? I don't know. I don't. Not sure, no.

I just need to prioritize. Get in the me-cocoon. It's not selfish. Well, perhaps it is the positive side of the coin. Respect and patience for the self. I need to breathe and decide by my own.

Mantra:

IT CAN HURT YOUR BODY TO TELL YOUR PERSONAL TRUTH.

IT NEVER HURTS YOUR SOUL TO TELL YOUR PERSONAL TRUTH.

EMBARRASSMENT, AWKWARDNESS, REJECTION, DISSOCIATION,

AND REGRET ARE NOT STRONG ENOUGH REASONS TO STOP BEING

YOU.

LOVE THE UNCOMFORTABLE BEAST THAT YOU ARE.

THEN YOU CAN RELAX.

I keep feeling a little poor in my skin. I just need to believe that I have what it takes.

I have always felt as though the platitudes that are spoken most are the easiest to write off. But they are still there. Smiling.

"You just have to put your mind to it!"

The power of positive thinking. I made a latte today and I noticed that the foam was exceptionally smooth and luxurious. I decided to man up and I told my customer that the latte he was about to drink could very well be the best latte he had ever witnessed. Whether this was true or not, he grew in anticipation and upon drinking the latte, he had that moment that Bill Murray has in "What about Bob?" My customer gasped and may have had a religious experience; he even returned later in the day simply to remark how good his latte was.

When you point something out to yourself, you tend to think on it. When riding a bike, if you stare at a stick on the ground, you are more likely to ride towards it, maybe hit it. ack, tired. more later. oooo

ring, ring, ring bells into the dark

So clearly.

He isn't joking.

A performance. By Justin Locklear.

Actors emerge into light as 'The Players'. 2, 4, 7, 13, 30, the number of players is immaterial. The Players stand in pigeon clumps, shivering and shifting, waiting. An ringing alarm sounds (not a siren), and the Players dance with glee in an organized choreographed chevron. Alarm goes silent and the Players quickly go neutral and search for an audience response.

Lights out.

Lights up on half the Players in the familiar pigeon clumps with similar shuffling about. Same alarm bell, same smiles and dancing. Alarm goes silent and one of the original Players crosses from off stage right, to down center and claps uproariously with hoots and hollers. Players stand in disbelief. Clapping, hooting, hollering all cease and the player exits. Players still in shock and amazement. Some are besotted, some offended, some feel downright lost.

Voice (from offstage): GO HOME!

Players begin to scatter in all directions like newly orphaned baby spiders. Lights out.

Lights up on two Players, both standing arms akimbo, at center stage. Both aware of the audience. Both waiting their cue. Alarm bell starts, the Players slowly plié and then, as they release and make a short leap in the air, the alarm bell goes silent. They shout, mid-leap.

Players (in unison, still in the air): MAGIC!

The Players receive applause from one set of hands backstage. The applause is slow and pitiful. The Players amicably shake hands and are very comfortable with the resulting applause.

Voice (offstage): GO HOME!

Players kiss each others' hands and leave in opposite directions. Another player sweeps. Another player writes the letter 'x' at various locations on the stage. Lights out.

Lights up on blank stage. Alarm sounds and Players rush to stand on the 'x' marks. Alarm goes silent. The Players are very pleased to be onstage again: nothing complex, smiles, nods, confidence.

Voice (offstage): GO HOME!

Players walk in place on their 'x' marks and mime various moods of returning home. It doesn't matter how they do it, but each should find the time to open and close an imaginary door. A player up-left speaks.

Player 1: Go home. Please. Exeunt all but Player 1

I am the fault of no one. I stand alone.

I am the seed of all one. I grow to stone.

I am the thespis eye-twinkle. I get lost for money.

Then I lose the money.

Camels, tubes, medicine, race cars, laundry,

retail, Andy Griffith, the war of... whatever.

I will exist within anything that hasn't a soul but needs one.

I lie the best when I lie to one person at a time.

But I will lie to all, all in love.

If I tell the truth, when I tell the truth,

I want it to be in secret, with a select few lovers,

with eyes bolted, mouths bolted, and our hands up in fear.

If I could end all of the lies with one lie,

I would lie from now until I die, lest I miss the one lie that saves me.

Exits. Re-enters with a sheet. Places sheet on the ground at center. Stands on sheet.

I am a holy mix of nothing.

Walks on 'water.'

I am a holy mix of nothing.

Places sheet on head like a Madonna, making a gesture of peace.

I am a holy peace of tainted flesh. Holy, I am magical, immortal, peaceful.

Removes sheet, folds sheet during the following.

Flesh, I am hot, sniffing, chattering, quick, and gone. Curtains. Wings. Rails. Fires. White coal. Bad luck and empty seats.

Got a dollar to spare? Here's a piece of joy!

'Love comforteth, as sunshine after rain/

Lust's effect is tempest after sun.

Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain,/

Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done.'

Got a smile for me? Here's assurance!

Player assures audience of their safety in a tacit, concerned pose.

You're a good thief, kid. But I'm better. Lots better.

Kisses.

Two players cross the stage as a couple, holding hands or each other. Player 1 shakes head.

This is my banquet. My fireworks. How does it work? I dunno.

Not my job. I hear it happens, though. Them. That. I hear it's messy!

I have been stabbed 146 times. I have been orphaned 3 times.

I have killed 320 people or thereabouts. I can sail a chariot on fire through the air.

Give me a break, I need to go see a live birth or something. Something messy. Yup.

Lights out. Author is tired, and has to work soon, so he is going to bed. All my love.