all the colors
have been bled out
there is no longer
vibrant orange
there is no longer
outrageous red
there is no longer
brilliant gold
these leaves
need color
these leaves
need luster
need luster
these leaves
need color
these leaves
brilliant gold
there is no longer
outrageous red
there is no longer
vibrant orange
there is no longer
all have been bled out
there is no longer
color
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
the muse?
what if the muse was just a figment of your imagination?
would you be deemed crazy, or just a bit off when asked "what inspires you?"
what would your answer be if the muse did not exist?
there are things within this world that need to be put into words.
phrases and conjectures that need to be made, placed into order, organized into cohesive thoughts and only i am the one that needs to do it.
i am the only one who holds that perspective.
i am the only one who can tell that story.
i am the only one who can hold that turn of phrase and make it be exactly what the reader is looking for.
i am the only one who can do this.
what would you do if the muse did not exist?
as you walked down that path in the woods would you see the shadows as they played among the branches and trunks of the trees?
would you notice how the light glints off the surface of every blade of grass, making it all glow golden in the early morning light?
would you hear the cadence and rhythm of the spoken word,
or would it all just be one more moment that the mind does not hold onto?
would it all just disappear as quickly as it happened?
what would you do?
would you be deemed crazy, or just a bit off when asked "what inspires you?"
what would your answer be if the muse did not exist?
there are things within this world that need to be put into words.
phrases and conjectures that need to be made, placed into order, organized into cohesive thoughts and only i am the one that needs to do it.
i am the only one who holds that perspective.
i am the only one who can tell that story.
i am the only one who can hold that turn of phrase and make it be exactly what the reader is looking for.
i am the only one who can do this.
what would you do if the muse did not exist?
as you walked down that path in the woods would you see the shadows as they played among the branches and trunks of the trees?
would you notice how the light glints off the surface of every blade of grass, making it all glow golden in the early morning light?
would you hear the cadence and rhythm of the spoken word,
or would it all just be one more moment that the mind does not hold onto?
would it all just disappear as quickly as it happened?
what would you do?
Saturday, June 12, 2010
within your element
"You're finally within your element."
You've finally found your space and it is within this space that your existence matters, it is within this space that what you do makes a difference. Within these first weeks of spring I have cleaned away many winters' debris, within this space I have created a new place for plants to take hold, within this space I have planted hundreds of carrot seeds, a basket full of potatoes, hundreds upon hundreds of onions and over a thousand metacoment red corn seeds and all i can wonder is that within this much abundance why are there still people who are hungry?
and then i think: no. stop. you don't want to go down that road. just this once. don't go there.
so, okay, i'll go back to that other space, back to that blissed-out delirium i've learned to call work.
Work is now standing in a greenhouse filling 1,152 slots with soil, planting one metacoment red corn seed in each, covering the seeds with soil and then covering the trays of soil and seeds with well water. Work is now unpacking 1 box of product and pricing it, when the next person comes in they'll stock it, there's no need for me to do it all myself. Work is now squatting for 2 hours in the sun to place 615 onion bulbs within the soil, then come back and do it again, then again, until the entire 32 lb. bag of stuttgarter yellow onion sets have been planted, humming to yourself and them the entire time. Work is now about taking your time to do it right the first time, and if it turns out you didn't do it right, that's ok, let me show you again. Work is now talking for 40 minutes about nothing and everything at all, after you've planted all those onions. Work is now about giving yourself time and if it doesn't get finished all in one day, that's ok cuz there's always tomorrow!
You've finally found your space and it is within this space that your existence matters, it is within this space that what you do makes a difference. Within these first weeks of spring I have cleaned away many winters' debris, within this space I have created a new place for plants to take hold, within this space I have planted hundreds of carrot seeds, a basket full of potatoes, hundreds upon hundreds of onions and over a thousand metacoment red corn seeds and all i can wonder is that within this much abundance why are there still people who are hungry?
and then i think: no. stop. you don't want to go down that road. just this once. don't go there.
so, okay, i'll go back to that other space, back to that blissed-out delirium i've learned to call work.
Work is now standing in a greenhouse filling 1,152 slots with soil, planting one metacoment red corn seed in each, covering the seeds with soil and then covering the trays of soil and seeds with well water. Work is now unpacking 1 box of product and pricing it, when the next person comes in they'll stock it, there's no need for me to do it all myself. Work is now squatting for 2 hours in the sun to place 615 onion bulbs within the soil, then come back and do it again, then again, until the entire 32 lb. bag of stuttgarter yellow onion sets have been planted, humming to yourself and them the entire time. Work is now about taking your time to do it right the first time, and if it turns out you didn't do it right, that's ok, let me show you again. Work is now talking for 40 minutes about nothing and everything at all, after you've planted all those onions. Work is now about giving yourself time and if it doesn't get finished all in one day, that's ok cuz there's always tomorrow!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
truth
the truth is i'm blissed out and suddenly lost in my own world of happiness. all of those small niggling thoughts no longer matter, the angst once held so tightly has been let free and just as suddenly my muse has left me to my own devices so that one second i'm lost within my memories and the next i think, hey, look at the pretty little flower print, isn't it just so darling? and finally my muse pokes her head around the corner and says, um, excuse me, did you just say that that flower is darling? you mean the same one that you bitched about for three days last year? yes, i say, well, it's not the same one, see? this one looks more like a dandelion, or a daisy, and that first one was much closer to fleabane, or devil's paintbrush, see? my muse looks at me, giving me that blank stare that silently screams, are you serious? she continues to stare at me and i falter a bit, look down at my bare feet as they wriggle in the early morning dew of the grass, the drops of dew glinting in the early morning light, giving each blade it's own gilded edge. when i look up my muse is still staring at me and i take in a short breath and breathe out, what? and then she takes in a very long and very deep breath and on the end of her sigh says, don't you at least see them covered in blood?
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