barefoot loose dancing on shackles

poetry self-denied resident high stenciled on bars

beyond hearing inaudible frequency canary singing

silent death creeping through the mind solitary

confined

Abuse, abandonment, rejection, separation, divorce, disappeared, flung from helicopters over seas night and day by Authority or beloved is death: figurative, narrative, virtual, actual imagined, inferred, experienced.

Grieved, long long long time, immeasurable; endless. Vacancy of esteem--sucked hollow; machine gunned: run like hell—randomly from above.

Convicted. Apprehended (in both senses) executed, assassinated, buried alive in quicksand. Authority taken in laughter standing upon one's head. Stepping stones self-righteous.

Astonished!

Never did I imagine, cannot comprehend, anticipate/associate: Rebound with being just another predator/scavenger circling, or instead, being a life ring, sanctuary formed of floating upon the sea an island detritus--things cast off as waste. Clung to or terrorizing . . . either way is not OKAY.

Yet.

My spirit arises resurrected from the ashes of self-immolation—singing my thesis: Jesus' resurrection began at his feet dripping on the cross; contagious. A virus spread wide—making each of us, in turn, we all, capable of, in part, if not whole, becoming a light of any luminance in life.

I so love, I will take anything given, knowing, finally, the acknowledgment--proving I exist, as love from the other. The always beloved Thou.

"Take your life in your own hands, and what happens? A terrible thing: no one to blame." - Erica Jong

14:31

Looking backward, at first discovery and inwardly, I reacted: squat jumping into the ceiling, angling towards the corners, the door and one window of my office bedroom; crashing in to every surface attempting to understand our mutual pain.

Defying gravity residing suspended on the Middle Way, I think myself too much at times: pretentious and pontifical. Actually fraudulent. Worse: inadequate.

No milk and cookies but gorging on invisible Oreos. At least I am still able to make myself laugh with a keyboard.

"A word is not the same with one writer as with another. One tears it from his guts. The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket." - Charles Péguy

“These, then, are my last words to you: Be not afraid of life. Believe that life is worth living, and your belief will help create that fact.” - William James

“And now you are and I am and we’re a mystery which will never happen again.” e. e. cummings

130502 09:32 MDT barefoot loose dancing on shackles

© 2013 by Jack Spratt – All Rights Reserved

imagine please . . .

walking into a coin laundromat scanning banks of industrial strength windowed costume dryers some silent a few churning one with a face flashing occasionally laughing showing you eyes spinning slot machines seeking a winning combination with a one-thousand-meter gaze becalmed

Vampire pencil sharpener pencil inserted grinding points growing limbs leafs birds hopping singing spring sprung The Tree of Life leaves falling seasonal recycled in the vortex shooting live contents of Noah's Ark plastering infinity are we there yet? Isn't it time to go home!

Weal or woe personal confessional pressed against the walls of a centrifuge rocket powered become a decal replica fractality seeking event horizons vibrant scintillating no darkness all light shadowless levitated humming

would you believe tail ends intestinal moral rectitude fanatic crimes against obscenity Thought Police crashing through doors cudgeling readers for the sensuousness spreading signatures dead trees besmirched with filthy black ink spread wide gynecological Google synonymous with Foley Catheter inserted recording flashing stroboscopic heart's desire psychic longing People Want to Know awaiting  first editions persecution for self portraiture nude bath tub flaming water fracked childish pornography life sentence prosecution drive through for-profit prison solitary skeletal self frozen between forms bureaucratic Kafka-ed

Dervish skirts expanding enveloping audience walls cities nations the globe and all stars sailing beyond cosmology understanding synaptic speed invisible teleportation New Bang Creation in the beginning was the word

reprise Blitzkrieg mom and me descending new to her previously owned Cadillac nude beneath robe painting toe nails teaching me to play Gin Rummy beating me to a pulp no fiction announcing in a casual causal aside they “have a child in the attic chained to the floor” family visits . . . dear god can that happen to me? of course it can! seminal words are mobetta flora

doggerel how about you

130502 06:55 MDT imagine please . . .

© 2013 by Jack Spratt – All Rights Reserved

consequential

Consequential, implied, inferred, but not an icepick in the eye. Real. Like death, of which I fear not, but dying a lingering terror; knowing the many ways I could for years and years lay helpless, dependent upon everything and everyone to live.

Curious, and mindful, of turning points, rites of passage/transition, being in somebody's movie, joyous or grievous. I wonder when, how or why did I change? Surrendering. Submitting to the winds, a dust mode upon them, inconsequential, at peace. Helpless again.

Did Gideon toss and turn, finding no peace, in his tent awaiting the verdict; his lambs wool moist or dry? As I did moments ago forgetting I'd slept like the dead, dreamless, for most the past afternoon. Surfacing slowly, with reluctance unknowing and my eyes as if in a sandbox. As the hours slithered past, knowing it best to rest, I could not until I began the therapy of writing. Wringing out thoughts yearning for birth. Relief tendered. I sought one last view for anything Had She Said Yes might send. (in retrospect and rewrite she will hence forth be known as PD or variously P as in like M, P, me)

Oh may!

5 by 5, loud and clear, she might as well have been holding my head to her breast; hand cradling the back of my head. Rarely do I write within email software or comment boxes. Unable to discern punctuation, etc. Preferring to exorcize myself on the big screen in Libre, with dictionary ninth month pregnant with arcana spelled correctly.

Write I did. Without the above aids; in reply to her “smell, touch, taste, embrace.” I used the forum provided by Opera; sending it into ether and quintessential night. Turning to rest tossing where I expected rest and so here I am again. I had been unable to find the quote I wanted to express my simple conclusion: I wish for her the very best of everything exclusive of me, if need be. The following catapulted me from horizontal to vertical: 'I don't love you because I need you, but love you as and because you are you.'

Where M keeps me, more-or-less, at arm's length physically, P (“Had She Said Yes”) said yes . . . oddly merged with me in those words. Words either tell or do. I sense myself cooked through and through, a Christmas Goose plucked biased and on the platter steaming.

In Sex Anonymous, at least one hundred “dates” are suggested/required before folly or fooling around. Ain't misbehaving yet. But with both women, equally beloved--a hairsbreadth less than myself or God—I've equivalency. Times: sad, glad, mad, lunatic, weeping or laughing. Both at the same time.

Central and critical, is the element of trust. Which I now have in all the named characters at play. Could it be The Playwright directing the narrative?

Me thinks I see the Shepard’s Crook, hovering in the curtains shadows, about to jerk me off the/this stage.

To another?

130502 01:05 MDT consequential

© 2013 by Jack Spratt – All Rights Reserved