It’s like a big cold tree
And this is who you are.
And this is all you know.
And the Morton Salt Girl is singing with the band,
and your sister sleeps soundly, dreaming her
14 year old dreams, and you decide,
she must wake up, and skip off
with you to steal flowers, and she does.
It’s like waking up on blue carpet, that
matches some your Grandma had
years ago.
You wake up, and there is a giant empty plastic half gallon
Not half full, but all the way empty.
It’s like dying your hair with cleaning products and vodka
It’s like refusing to wear your leather coat in the winter.
Just dragging that coat behind you, like a pet.
Because a sleeveless shirt is enough to keep you warm
when you are surrounded by people you love.
Who love you.
Who like to laugh.
Who watch your back.
As long as you need.
It’s like the family on Earth extends beyond blood.
Beyond common sense.
And we all play and run around and spin.
Together.
With bruises and black eyes.
And spraypaint.
See you next time.
November 18th, 2007
My Dearest Apollo, Apollon, Appollon,
You were once such a moral outstanding example that you were worshipped on the 7th day of every month. Let us pour some out then, and recognize your greatness for what it is today. You are known and identified with the Sun, and even lesser known, and represented in central Illinois, surrounded by cornfields.
I never realized this until later in life. We had an extended weekend with an art opening and some beautiful music for 2 long evenings. My most vivid memory is swinging around very fast and missing a pole by not so much, going very fast. That was one happy joyous weekend, and I was one very drunk and obnoxious Betty Ford wife.
On Sunday, there were a few of us left, and we did not want the weekend to stop and we decided to extend the weekend by one more day. We drove out a ways, and saw your image standing there, arms extended. Glorious. We walked around you, squinted, lay on the grass, saw the sun set over and through your 16 foot form. Surrounded by cornfields, this was the most amazing thing to discover; standing, exalting.
That was about 7 years ago, things have changed. Life is such an evolution, by the time you stop to consider these moments, it is history.
Thank you for the Light, all Light. Thank you for the ability to squint and change a landscape, making things closer and further away, dust shining in your beams. Thank you for warmth, for glaring, and turning Winter into a joke.
Thanks for the Music, oh man, the Music, without it, how would we all place these memories, out accomplishments, our declines. For letting us feel it, making us shake, move us, energy for our souls.
Thank you for the gift of Prophecy. Too often we may choose to ignore the signs, the stirrings deep inside, as if we had some sort of control, some sort of choice. The things that we forsee, they are not always the happy things, help us to know what to do with them, something I have yet to learn.
Thank you for the gift of Healing. We all carry pain, all of us. Especially those hardened from years of turmoil. Make us all heal, and rid us of our scar tissue. We have to stop wearing the Hate, like a badge and get over it. We have all been broken in some way, let’s help each other and be the first to make ammends.
Save us from the plagues. People judging, restricting, creating a Frankenstein army of ancient pagan ideals and their greed. We need a solid intuitive oneness to fight this disease of ignorance and pride. Save us from the restrictions, the borders, the censorship, the racists and the wars. Help us Apollo, wake up each morning and chew through the restraints.
Xoxoxoxoxoxo and light, lyres, and love right up to Zeus.
November 18th, 2007