Monday, May 4, 2009


I have been looking at the paper long enough to know I cannot re-create you. Unlike my tried words, charcoal and spit I cannot cross you out, rub you out or dry you out. You are not a synonym, a shade or unpalatable. So what do I do with you? I will do anything to re-create you. Or destroy you. You are the enchanted, haunting wraith of my conscience, or sub-conscience, or whatever the hell else it is that distorts me. I have no idea what you are anymore, or what you meant to me. But I need you on this paper, on my wall as you are. Then I will turn off the lights and throw darts. Or enshrine you with candles. I don't know which. But one or the other needs to happen because I can't keep waking up like this. The kids are getting worried.


  1. Great piece. Whatever of whoever this is about, just let it go. It seems far away now. Write it down and send it far away. Great writing.

  2. Shrines are sickening!

  3. I love shrines; however, I have decided to throw darts