Can’t be what you outta be
Gotta be what you wanna be
Take it with pride and
Like a dragonfly
Dragonfly wants a piece of pie
But he is so strung out
Shake me off the knife because I want to go home
from Dragonfly Pie, Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks
parking lot waiting
i’m really good at it
minutes, hours, Hell–
i’ve even slept in a few, shew, kewl
parking lot waiting
radio, video easy to
with a phone or
without, the windshield
is your screen
1:01 a.m. and my heart is fluttering
2 hours later and the dog’s nose is wet
but I’m no bet-ter
3:16 JOHN, not the Bible verse, just a bathroom,
cold floor relief
4, then it’s 5, then it’s six-oh-five and
I’m up, and alive.
my heart is fluttering
photo: East Bernard, TX, Holga, Ektachrome 400, dated 1994, cross-processed.
i looked up and realized that it had been about 9 months since i had posted a photo, a word, a thought or even a burp around these parts. post-election, post-Trump blues? probably. anyhow, here i am back. so maybe a few lines of a poem, unfinished but there…
if the light you like is like warm, red with warmth, yellow, too,
like socks on feet under blanket in the Fall, almost too warm to take, then
snap, not mentally, but the shutter, camera-kind, snap, put it in a box with glass on.
and you will have captured it. it? the light you like.
betty on the porch. in the light i like.
so after nearly 13 years of watching a boy kick around a ball, chapters of youth soccer, club soccer and high school come to an end. the final high school season saw his team “do better than they’ve ever done” only to end with a thud in a game they should have won and extended their season a bit more. it hurt, games hurt, even the good ones, the wins, they even leave marks.
accolades for a job done well. all-state second team, all-city first team, 4th in balloting for player of the year in lexington and i couldn’t be prouder. but i know he disappointed, plagued by more “grown-up” injuries, a low-back issues, pulled groin, sore hamstring, etc. at times just made it a win to be on the field. he’ll never understand how without him out there the team couldn’t have had the success they shared.
for a pop, there’s a dull pain, countless hours on the road, in shitty hotel rooms off the interstates in ohio, north carolina, tennessee, missouri, indiana, illinois, west virginia, virginia and kentucky. eating what vegetarian fare we could find in the middle of nowhere, laughing at youtube videos, giggling at funny walking locals and smiles, tears, cuss words and more than anything, so much love. i love the game, i love watching him play the game, i love how he was able to see that he was good at something, so therefore he might be able to be good at many things.
soccer leaves wounds and scars, the best kind.
with the change of the seasons, the ball begins it’s roll towards goals. off feet, between legs, through the air–not always sure and true but never forgetful of the points that lie in wait.
you can see, be, say, do two things at once. doesn’t mean either of them will be the better for it. may actually be worse for it. but sometimes duality mumbles quietly…something(s) part of both that make a whole.
at some point i became old. i didn’t just discover that fact. it’s been a lingering notion. there’s wasn’t any sort of epiphany, more a black spot of mold that occurred on the bottom of my soul’s shower curtain and slowly, methodically crept unnoticed until it caught my gaze. i fight this mentally with the act of discovery, new music, old music i haven’t heard and images. new and old that continue to spark interest. i just know if i stop this act of discovery then the mold will only grow faster, there’s no outrunning it sure, but there has to be way to slow the dampening. nothing profound, just continuing to have to energy for the unknown things that the senses can still distinguish.