Monday, January 6, 2020


Futures (CAI 2019)
I see futures. Not all of them, not exactly; or, at least, I see all of them the way you see all the water droplets in the lake, at once, mixed together, as a single thing. But I also see the waves and crests, individuized, and some droplets that escape the splash to hit me in the face like a memory I'll never forget. I see whether I look or not, they intrude on my daily life and distract my attention like flies. Futures like flies, waiting their chance to eat me.

The burden of the futures keeps my head heavy with pressure, my heart heavy with knowing, my self heavy with fear and a poignant attachment to beauty. Finding my lightness requires feats of strength. Keeping my focus requires will mustered from depths that scrape nasty scars on the wall of my stomach, down the length of my nerves, through the pores of my skin.

I breathe in light. I breathe out knowing. I leave it hanging in the air and try to pretend it isn't there.