Rediscovered words

(written in 2003)

Someone laughing. Their voice, a revelation, rises to my ears. I listen through the window. It sounds like they are crying, but they are walking outside. The intonation of their emotion is carried up to me and it must be laughter I hear. Laughter can sound so much like crying, and crying is just the same. We have the ability, unlike the mysteries we are taught... Everything in division, the balkanized head of nature too disconnected to see the sameness throughout the body of the whole. Someday, it will all return, as if played in reverse. The laughter will turn to cheers, the cheers to sobs, and finally the sobs to whispers carried as sighs through the air. the sound of a bird singing outside of your window.

*

i think i love inanimate objects. sometimes i think they speak. sometimes i think they are honest and lovely. inanimate objects. sometimes i love their color. sometimes i admire their quiet. and then they sing. sometimes i pick up a recorder. and it speaks when my voice is silent. sometimes i don't want them to move. sometimes i carry them around. sometimes i see them sitting in a store and i take them home. i think i love inanimate objects. they make me calm, i'm not alone. their glimmer their curve. their life is my own. i think i love things that can't leave me unless i choose to let them go.

*

I couldn't write. I couldn't think. Birds with legs chattering. Ruffling their tongues and preening their lackluster wit against their dull pallet. No color here. No voice ringing clear with vibrancy. Just abc's thrown together in a junk heap pile. I couldn't move. And then, words like violin strings bowed with finesse forming internally. Words singing. The sound strumming a warm note remains sustained, enduring. Released now, pluming like smoke in cold air. All the words dissipate there. No room. No walls. No remnants of plucked feathers. My world is fully alive and shadows of figures remain tethered to the background.

*
Old photographs

*photo taken 2004, "Secrets"