The corpses of unwritten stories, blerbs, nothings needing to be written. The darkening thickening haze that is my musical illiteracy, the black hole whence all the unwritten grooves and melodies go--this is what I'm constnatly held in by. and all the more in these, the most acute, my worst of moods, when language sinks like a dead, heavy thing. Undue constriction, cords holding me from I don't konw where. I can't breathe all the way. This-writing, speaking, singing-is about the only enterprise I care to really be identified by/with, and yet it is a dead thing. A no-thing (I know nothing of).

But in the heat of it, in my best of moods? Language: I hear voices, melodies, words whisper and sing as I sit. And I can hear them breathing warm--my heart skips its beat and I'm startled by my eyelids quivering in anticipation.

Somewhere a soul is nude.



~~~

caucasian crumples

from whence came these caucasian crumples?
forehead furrows and frown lines
laugh lines and little caverns of space
where lashes peek out and hide
my light-shy eyes from too-stark sun?
nose poking and lips none too apparent
eyelids too-pink and translucent
cheekbones stubborn and so insistent
blonde brows washed out
by the milk of my complexion
from what exotic locales did i arrive?
from what land lush and natural
do i and my ancestors derive?
from the mounts of caucasius?
from the land of epicanthic folds?
what winds and tests of time had painted
the faces of my forebears since those days age old?
they're my great great grandmothers
and grandfathers and i'd like to know:
what foraging and shelters did they undertake?
what huts and boats and kid-games did they make?

and teacher:
how come no one with skin as light as mine
can be seen in that museum?
i'm looking, trying to find them
and still I'm never told
where can we be found?

crazy blues

too much to write. as usual.

and too...little...time?

nah. just them old crazy blues. but i won't let it go a year. i promise. this blog or the other I chafe to call my own...i shall return to them, to them to turn to in this hour of great need.