Feb 2016
Roller Coaster
Sparrow
Paper Bag
Picture
Diver
Market
Elephant
Roller Coaster: This won't be the typical mention of a roller coaster, about the ups and downs. But rather the fear I felt on the line for the ride and the reassurance I was handed by my companion and how I wish to feel that safety in words again.
Sparrow: I carried a baby bird to healing 4 years ago with a broken wing. But today I was asked for help with another and I could not have cared any less. I don't know if that's because I've "come to my senses" or just lost hope in flight.
Paper Bag: sound of ripping paper in half pause This is what I really heard when you told me you're doing well, without me.
Picture: I never did know what I'd find to do with this picture of a house, that I found in a house, that used to be my house... I'll just use it to say "house", because "home" is a word I don't know what to do with.
Diver: You are a cliff diver.
You take that leap of faith.
Your safety fails you.
Your back up fails you.
Really close your eyes.
Grasp the horror.
The betrayal.
The eventual impact of landing.
Thanks, mom.
Market: Remember when we had to wash our hands after every trip to the super market to avoid germs? What did we do to avoid what really infected us? What did you teach me to keep this sickness from creeping into my chest and eating me alive from the inside out? No preventative measures were taken against the most terminal illness that I could have picked up in any market, in any lifetime. So this is me, begging for a cure, and for the medicine I seem to have missed too many doses of.
Elephant: So... How's that for an elephant in the room?
Sparrow
Paper Bag
Picture
Diver
Market
Elephant
Roller Coaster: This won't be the typical mention of a roller coaster, about the ups and downs. But rather the fear I felt on the line for the ride and the reassurance I was handed by my companion and how I wish to feel that safety in words again.
Sparrow: I carried a baby bird to healing 4 years ago with a broken wing. But today I was asked for help with another and I could not have cared any less. I don't know if that's because I've "come to my senses" or just lost hope in flight.
Paper Bag: sound of ripping paper in half pause This is what I really heard when you told me you're doing well, without me.
Picture: I never did know what I'd find to do with this picture of a house, that I found in a house, that used to be my house... I'll just use it to say "house", because "home" is a word I don't know what to do with.
Diver: You are a cliff diver.
You take that leap of faith.
Your safety fails you.
Your back up fails you.
Really close your eyes.
Grasp the horror.
The betrayal.
The eventual impact of landing.
Thanks, mom.
Market: Remember when we had to wash our hands after every trip to the super market to avoid germs? What did we do to avoid what really infected us? What did you teach me to keep this sickness from creeping into my chest and eating me alive from the inside out? No preventative measures were taken against the most terminal illness that I could have picked up in any market, in any lifetime. So this is me, begging for a cure, and for the medicine I seem to have missed too many doses of.
Elephant: So... How's that for an elephant in the room?
This is a poem meant to be read aloud. The only prompts given was the list of 7 words. For the section "paper bag" I begin by ripping a piece of paper down the center slowly. That is the sound. For the section "picture" I hold up a photo of a house that I found exploring my old house that has since been resold and abandoned. Thank you for reading.
