orbit

i spin.

my wheels. the gears in my head. i am in constant orbit. always
working, thinking, considering, keeping tabs. like a satellite.

i have spent too much time, too many of my days in cities that never
wanted me. two years since she lied to me. this is two lies too many.
two is the number of the day, and i feel like the count on sesame
street. can you tell i spend all my free time with small children now?
i am no one's man anymore. i am no one's lover, bread winner, desire.
i am no one's confidante, no one's priest, preacher, or wiseman.

i am simply, daddy. i am defender, disciplinarian, authority. i am
cuddle buddy, meal maker, jungle gym.

and my children, steadily gaining steadier feet, new language
unfurling inside them like tree roots, they warm my heart. my babies
are stretching their arms, their legs, their voices, and i am, too. my
world is smaller now, but there are three of them, and it's all i
need.

ghost

detailed

i notice detail more these days. there are moments where i look at the
world and think i haven't ever really noticed so much here before. i
did not do this when i was young. i look at the same things i did when
i was, say, a teenager, and i see more than i used to. there's a lot
there in the everyday. have you ever really looked at a wood surface
and seen all the detail and pattern there? it's amazing.

of course, there's the down side. sometimes i catch myself staring at
the iron work of a lamp post and realize i've lost five minutes. i do
this in the shower sometimes too, so i don't worry about it too much.
there are times when i get lost looking at something, and notice
nothing of what's going on around me. i wonder how much i've missed in
my life, how much detail was never noticed in all that i've seen and
experienced.

i like that i seem to be missing less than i used to. i wonder if it's
a perspective born of age. maybe. maybe not. after all, i know plenty
of folk older than myself who seem oblivious to everything.

ghost

ordinary me

so there was an incident at wal-mart yesterday afternoon, that
stretched into the evening. what should have been a simple trip to get
groceries ended up being a few heartbeats of violence followed by a
great number of moments strung together speaking to police officers.
cleared of any wrong doing, i left, and spent the rest of the evening
reliving and considering the altercation.

and i started thinking that when i was younger i craved these sort of
deviations from the norm. i didn't necessarily want a fist fight, mind
you, but i wanted something to break up what i felt was an endless
monotony of passing days. after all, who wants to live an ordinary
life? who doesn't want the unusual? i imagined adulthood would prove
more eventful than my youth. somehow, i imagined the future a bright
place, like supernaturally bright. i don't know why, i had a good
childhood, but in my head, its swathed in dark colors, like blues and
greys and greens.

i've grown accustomed to the dark colors. they are cool and
comforting, mostly. i still want to be extraordinary, but in a normal
way. i want to achieve something. i've always felt i was meant for
something, though i have no idea what. i do feel like i'm getting a
late start on whatever it is i'm supposed to do/be though, being in my
mid thirties.

i wonder sometimes if i have misspent my life so far. i look at my
kids and i don't believe that. i look at my bank account, though, and
sometimes it's hard not to.

anyway, the sun is out and it's a perfect day. i'm not going to think
about this anymore. i'm just going to breathe and live the day.

ghost

i'll be a hero in my own time

last night i saved the universe, reality, and every plane of existence.

i was in a very dark place that reminded me a lot of the scenes from
Return Of The Jedi when luke is fighting vader while the emperor looks
on from his throne. none of those characters were present though. it
was just me, alone in the darkness. i couldn't feel the floor with my
feet. i assumed i was floating, though every action felt like i was in
water, like the darkness itself was a dense fluid resisting my
movement.

as i floated, four fuses, like those used to detonate dynamite in old
westerns or bugs bunny cartoons, suddenly appeared before me and were
lit simultaneously. i knew there was no explosion at the end of these
fuses though. somehow i knew these were the strings upon which all
being relied, and a moment of panic threatened to overwhelm me,
because they were swiftly burning away and i didn't feel i had time to
think of a solution. worse, i felt the presence of another mind on the
other side of the fuses, contending with me, an evil trying to destroy
all that is. i willed myself to hold things together, concentrating
with no real notion as to what i should concentrate on.

then a space opened above me, and there was someone sitting there who
spoke to me in the same manner as those in an old kung fu movie would.
the soundtrack did not line up with the movement of his mouth, but i
could hear his words nonetheless.

"when contending with existence, keep to the soft things. for even the
hard things must rely on the soft."

i took his calm advice. i put my finger right above my solar plexus,
the center of my chest, right on the breast bone, but what i was
concentrating on was my skin, on the softness covering my skeleton.
the fire of the four fuses faded and blew out. tiny wisps of smoke
curled away from them, and i was hurtled away from them, back out of
the detail of what i found to be a weaving of some sort, pulled back
until i could not see the fuses, but only a multitude of black threads
crisscrossing like denim fabric magnified to the nth degree.

my heart was racing, but i had the sense that i had won. i remember
thinking that surely saving the universe couldn't be that easy, but it
was and i did.

anyway, you're welcome.

if you feel the need to shower me with gifts to show your
appreciation, make checks payable to me.

ghost

today

i've been considering going back to school for my masters degree. i
don't want to write a bunch of useless papers though, say for a
masters in education. i'm convinced the people who write the
curriculum for these classes have never spent any time in a classroom
full of students.

i would love to take art classes, to push me beyond the reaches to
which i push myself. i fear i don't have the time to take the classes
though. art classes are generally three hours in class and then two
to three hours of outside work. i don't mind the outside work. i
just don't have three hours to devote to being in class.

another option i'm really infatuated with is a masters in creative
writing. that feels right up my alley. again, i want to be pushed
further than i am able to push myself simply because i lack the
imagination to create different types of problems to solve.

during my research i ran across a form of korean poetry called the
Sijo. Sijo is three lines of 14-16 syllables each, with special
attention to lyrical quality in the rhythm, and the last line usually
has some sort of twist. for example, here is one i created:

the flickering of light and shadow enswathes me, dances
mystery folds my mind in two and breezes brush away the sand
night is ending, and love, i find, is nothing more than a heart.

anyway, this has been on my mind. we'll see how it goes.

i woke up with the feeling that something amazing was going to happen
today. let me know if it happens to you. i'll do the same.

ghost

boon

this life of mine has been teaching me lessons as of late. i am
stubborn and sometimes it takes me a while to work through things, but
give me time and i will learn.

i imagine sometimes i can get it right. i am learning that things are
often not as bad as i imagine they will be. i am bad about declaring
war before i know exactly who to fight. i'm over the top with walls
and i don't trust anyone. i assume everyone has ulterior motives.

insert clever political joke here.

but, i'm beginning to realize that sometimes the wind is to my back,
and there is nothing before me but open road. it's been a long time
since i've tasted any success. but, i think i've just been focused on
the negativity, on the loneliness, on the pain for so long, i've
forgotten how to look at the good. and i have to rethink that. i look
at my kids, i look at Dimples and Tiny Tank and Pixie and i see bright
happy eyes, healthy bodies, and sharp minds, and i know i have had the
biggest hand in that. that is success, my friends. despite everything,
i am doing it right. i am doing the absolute best i can for my
children. i am being the absolute best father i know how to be.

and, i'm dreaming again. they hang like hats along my wall, ready for
when i'll put them on and imagine something new. i will taste now, i
will enjoy now, and i will tuck these memories away. time is fickle
and does not stay, afterall.

Heart, where shall i go? i would take advantage of now so that later i
will not wish i had used this time as well as i could, that i savored
of it all i possibly might. what should i do?

i sense sometimes that i might feel sorry for those who take things
for granted. they have only sniffed the roses, but have never tasted
any dirt to compare them against. i will fold the rose of this hour
into my book of days. there might be enough dirt there for it to take
root and grow in secret.

ghost

am i lying to myself?

there was a three page post here, but it was rum infused and served
little purpose. so you get this instead.

i say i'm over, that i finally achieved over. that i finally reached over.

but, sometimes, in quiet times, what you did sweeps across my mind,
leaking from this elephantine memory of mine. sparks. flash. and i'm
on fire all over again, burning like lava, like rocket fuel, like the
molten core of the sun. like the blood of a frenzied mob.

and i growl.

there are a lot of things that i remember. i've been told by many
people, especially of late, that i'm no good at living, that i only
remember the bad things. but i can tell you, the bad ones are only
this bad because i never forget the good ones either.

ghost

you are what you eat

"it says here, Romo gets two injections."-t.b.
"of midol."-b.b.

"pop-tarts are disgusting."-b.h.
"and by disgusting, he means delicious."-ghost
"heck yeah, i make sweet love to pop-tarts every day."-s.m.

"what if i completely screw this up?"-h.h.
"that's always a possibility."-ghost
"this is like hell."-h.h.
"there have been many episodes of wailing and gnashing of teeth in here."-ghost
"i've always contended that you're the devil, tip."-a.d.

"just you wait, tip. i can be intimidating."-k.t.

"eyebrow or no eyebrow?"-boren
"when the question is eyebrow or no eyebrow, the answer is always
eyebrow."-ghost
"but it's a thingy and a shape and stuff, damn it."-boren
"let's hear it for imprecise nouns."-ghost

"i just had the greatest idea of my life."-s.m.
"i hate when i have those."-c.j.
"why?"-ghost
"because they always end up miserable failures."-c.j.

"you probably shouldn't listen to any life advice i might offer. i
can't even keep my own stuff together."-ghost
"do you know those little emo drawings, like the one that says, "i'll
just pretend to hug you til you get here," or "i made you a cookie but
i ate it"? that's what you remind me of. so sad but so cute."-h.b.

ghost

with ice bag on my neck

it feels a lot less like living and more like simple existence when
the kids are not here. i hate this place when they are gone. the
emptiness and the quiet too closely resemble my life. i need them here
to balance out the loneliness. i'm not whining. i'm not complaining.
this is fact.

i watch a bird dart up and up and up until i blink and lose it. i send
it a wish to deliver wherever it's going. a neighbor gives me a funny
look. i didn't know she was standing there.

"what did you say?" she asks.
"a message. a wish. a letter to God." i reply.
"do you believe in God?" she asks.
"i do." i answer.
"i never have," she says. "i can't believe He exists."
"if He does, at least all my bases are covered," i reply.

my nose bleeds for no reason, like it did when i was a kid, like
Pixie's does now from time to time. leaning over the sink, the crimson
drops splashing against the porcelain, it looks like someone has been
massacred in there. i worry for a moment that the sink will stain,
then i remember nothing is permanent.

and if anything is being massacred, it's just the old me.

ghost

aftermath

given a little time to consider the storm that blew through me last
night, i started thinking about something my old man taught me when i
was young and repeated often through all the years from then til now.
God, i think, only let's us in on things when we are ready for them.
He never gives us anything we can't handle. call it preparation, or
liken it to off season training. it is preparing us for the big game.
my question is, if He is preparing me, toughening me up for whatever
is next, just what is it He has in mind? because sometimes now i feel
like i'm going to break, and i wonder just how much more i am capable
of enduring. everyone has their breaking point, right?

phil plasma made the comment on last post that perhaps i am not
patient enough. perhaps if i just wait, if i hold out, hold on, endure
a little longer, it will be revealed to me, this whatever it is that
comes next. perhaps then i can look at all of this and find some peace
in the idea that i've gained some wisdom.

it is strange to me that something that has been so dibilitating can
lead to so much wisdom later. i'm ready to be wise. i'm ready to not
be in pain. i want to be a good father, desperately, more than
anything else. it is my prayer that despite everything else, let me
not lose sight of that.

i shall try not to jump to conclusions, as i have done many many many
times in my life, borrowing trouble where there is none. i will
prepare against the day of battle, but not go seeking war.

Lord, give me strength that i might endure, and forgive me if i seem
ungrateful for this life at times.

if i am lucky, i might find that Love conquers all is a truth, and not some poet's dream.

omnia vincit Amor

ghost

how long

so, what i need to know is, just what i did to deserve this? and how
long will you make me suffer for whatever i did to offend you?

because i've had enough.

don't get me wrong. this isn't the sort of thing where i'm throwing
in the towel or giving up. this is me saying, ease up, back off, let
it go.

before i walk away.

what's that? sure, i made choices. ultimately it was my decision.
obviously, i was mistaken. but i've apologized. i've asked for
forgiveness. the ball is in your court now. how long do you intend to
let me languish, to hurt? how long do you expect me to hold on?
because you know me better than i know myself, but we both know i'm
not sticking around for much more of this.

this isn't an ultimatum. i don't do those. i'm just through with your
words, your sermons.

show me a miracle.

ghost

recollection

i wonder what it's like to live with no dreams.

i have had many dreams, though in hindsight, most of them were maybe
foolish and probably naive. but still, not to have any dreams at all
is probably different than having stupid ones. i look back at my life
and i remember having no dreams, when i was lost, when the inside of
me was naked and lost in the outside world with no anchor in the sea
of days. i still sometimes get glimpses of that world. it seems a
world away now, one of several i've visited. i never want to go back.

even before that though, when i was a lonely lost angry boy, i
remember praying. i remember praying to whatever was out there for
help. i prayed, then as i have more recently, in desperation.

strange.

i've never really thought anyone would answer.

ghost

i am the wind

she's an old tree,
her trunk wide,
branches high,
immovable against
me.

i frown and
push harder,
to no avail.
she's strong.
deeply rooted.

i pause a moment,
then gust,
following her
contours down
and tickle her foot.

i rise,
dispersing across
her rough skin,
expanding to mingle
among her branches.

rustling leaves,
exploiting weakness,
snapping twigs.
i brush against
sudden smoothness.

momentum carries me past
but i swirl,
spinning in delay,
take a moment
and realize some of
her magic.
her charm.

i smile as i flow on.
part of her magic,
carved in her trunk,
embedded in my mind,
an asymmetric heart.
two names.

she is the keeper of
fond memories,
of old love.
i sigh,
wondering if i will ever
leave such a mark
on this world.

ghost