sleepless
it is 4:12 in the morning and i can't sleep.
it may be the empty stomach,
the slight buzz in my head,
but i think it is the restless thoughts.
nicaragua. spain.
blue job mountain.
new year's morning.
coffee. fish. love.
i wrote a poem about my father tonight. it was the first real anything of feeling that i have wrote about him in the three years since he died. i wrote it at java hut while a man on the stage two feet from my left leg recited poems about someone named jim. apparently they were good; the audience was laughing and clapping and wowing. i was writing furiously thoughts that had suddenly tumbled into me from the sky. writing on a small subscription offer with john wolfe's pen thoughts about my father then and my father now and how the then and now are connected...
after that was out (but not all of it, i feel some still in my head) i was shaking from iced coffee and emotion. i turned the paper over and started writing facts about myself.
i wrote:
I got my first piercing after I got my first tattoo.
I don't have a favorite way to sit.
The man in the front row with white hair who stares at my toes makes me uncomfortable.
I want to learn guitar, but have so far not put enough time into it.
I have put time into travel plans, and cannot wait.
I kind of want to take up smoking, just for fun.
I generally respect people from Maine more than others.
I need better toothbrush.
I haven't put a lot of thought into how to reach nirvana, but I imagine it involves a lot of laughter.
humans are extremely strange creatures, and i am no exception.
it may be the empty stomach,
the slight buzz in my head,
but i think it is the restless thoughts.
nicaragua. spain.
blue job mountain.
new year's morning.
coffee. fish. love.
i wrote a poem about my father tonight. it was the first real anything of feeling that i have wrote about him in the three years since he died. i wrote it at java hut while a man on the stage two feet from my left leg recited poems about someone named jim. apparently they were good; the audience was laughing and clapping and wowing. i was writing furiously thoughts that had suddenly tumbled into me from the sky. writing on a small subscription offer with john wolfe's pen thoughts about my father then and my father now and how the then and now are connected...
after that was out (but not all of it, i feel some still in my head) i was shaking from iced coffee and emotion. i turned the paper over and started writing facts about myself.
i wrote:
I got my first piercing after I got my first tattoo.
I don't have a favorite way to sit.
The man in the front row with white hair who stares at my toes makes me uncomfortable.
I want to learn guitar, but have so far not put enough time into it.
I have put time into travel plans, and cannot wait.
I kind of want to take up smoking, just for fun.
I generally respect people from Maine more than others.
I need better toothbrush.
I haven't put a lot of thought into how to reach nirvana, but I imagine it involves a lot of laughter.
humans are extremely strange creatures, and i am no exception.