So there I was sitting there thinking about snow shovels.
Actually I was standing.
On my shovel
taking a break.
And I thought, man this shovel works great! It does exactly what I want it to do. Clears the corners, scrapes the middle, consistent, strong, light. What a great shovel.
(by the way I am somewhat of an authority on snow and shoveling, I don’t know the most but I know a lot).
What Randy did to make that shovel work that way…it pretty perfect!
My wife, that’s what I’ll call her for now, is living with cancer…actually it’s Cancer (with a big c), that’s what I’ll call that for now, and we’ve also had or been in the middle of what could possibly, arguably, logically be the greatest disagreement with history…ever!
That’s all for another time. And it’s going to take a long time. So, for now, come with me on this story…
I’ve hated her.
I never loved her
But today, I am learning from her.
And looking at her differently
I might be falling in love,
for the first time.
All I need to do is ask for what I want. That’s it.
Why is that so hard?
What the fuck makes that so hard?
maybe it’s the attitude.
probably it’s the attitude.
This pixilated world is my universe, I am creating it.
And I will stand strong, like a beacon, monument,
to a voice of humanity.
A monument to humanity.
A monument of humanity.
And be man enough to stand behind your desire,
with your actions.
I think to myself…
am i mean hearted?
All the time. No.
My son is sick. Pretty sick. throwing up. Sleeping. general malaise and as I tucked him into bed, after he, who never proclaims bed, but for once or four times in his entire, almost, 9 years, proclaims…Bed.
And so as I bring him in to his mother, he say’s, mommy, I’m cold, in the lightest and sweetest tone and mommy says…NOT FOR LONG…
And as we go about devouring his cold and enveloping him in warm,
and packing the pillows and tucking the corners
and pressing body heat to body
and mommy begins her final descent into him,
I pull the blanket, a flaky outer shell
over what’s been deemed the warmest blanket.
Like a baked potato
And what a name for a line of blankets.
And now I have a shovel to manufacture
I will ask for National Sponsorship before next Monday.
I wasn’t sure where that was going for a while, but it all came back from where it started.
Coltrane wakes me
Baker soothes me
as it should be
as it must be
and why bother with the feelings about each
when underneath it all is rare experience
Masters giving us something
whether we take it
makes no difference
But that we did take it
made all the difference
Both exactly equal in their willingness to transmit
along the plane
like jets supersonic crisscross
there is a moment when they cross streams
that moment – singular
and then, bursting off beyond the speed of light
away and apart
and then again, rocketing towards a singularity
and I am the child, sitting against the earth
looking up at the dance.