Monday,
Finally got this poem pretty much where I wanted it. I submitted it to this Facebook site I'm on and the administrator deleted it from the site. No explanation, just deleted it. So, I got myself and my poetry off his damn site. Hee! I know, I'm being a bit pretentious about it. But I didn't have many people actually interested in my poetry on that page, and not many of them ever left a comment.
Kimm, called me up and invited me up to Tulsa next weekend. Probably going which means I really need to go wash some clothes! God, why do I keep putting it off?! She's gonna pick me up on Friday. The only bummer is we don't know how I'm gonna get back or when I'm gonna get back. I don't like that uncertainty. Don't like the idea of being stuck. Don't like being away from my home for long.
Kimm also told me that she's planning to move to Washington state! Her mom moved out of state (Texas, I think) to get closer to Kimm's brother, and Kimm's son is in Seattle, so . . . It bothers me, her leaving. I know, we don't have a "thing" but I was hoping that we might have one. No, nothing like that! Or quite like that. I just like her a lot, like being around her. Hell, I don't see her that often now, and we're in the same state! I'll NEVER see her EVER again if she moves to the west coast.
Thursday, June o6, 2o14
Well, so Tuesday at 2 in the morning I'm on the Facebook, and I get a strange comment from someone I don't know: Your mother's in the hospital. Call your sister if you want more information. Hmmm. That was odd. since it was late, I didn't call my sister here in Oklahoma. I went to bed. And sure enough, at eight in the morning my sister calls telling me this horror story about mom falling and the doctors saying she busted her hip, and they can't operate on her because she's old and that there's only a 50/50 chance she'd survive. The wanted to just put her in a home right away. But the guy who sent me the comment (found out he's the "boyfriend" of my other sister who lives in Cali) said not with out the family talking it over first. So, my sister and I spent about a half an hour or so talking about it. Found out she didn't have a broken hip, but a pelvic facture which is the better of two medical situations. So, I called Kimm and cancelled going to Tulsa this weekend to make sure I'm around town in case my sister needs me.
You know, for better or worse, I'm not that much into the family thing. Pretty much I've been "on my own" most of my life. I never fit into the family life style. Not sure why, but not sure they really ever liked me much either. But when I thought about it, I am the oldest. So, I should at least try to be a good son and stick around this weekend. Help out if I can.
On Facebook everybody goes on and on about family, how much they love them, how much they mean to them . . . and although I don't hate my family . . . well, like I said, I've been pretty much on my own my whole life. I don't have the same feelings that my other friends have. Sometimes my insensitivity to the social order of things makes me sad, makes me feel less than human.
Saturday, June o7, 2o14
Here it is the end of the first week in June . . . and I've barely written anything on this blog, and pretty safe to say what I have written . . . is insignificant! I look at blogs of my friends, Angel Davis in particular, and they are saying things . . . important . . . thoughtful . . . sometimes funny. And me? Well, nothing I've written seems to be even slightly interesting.
I've start working on a new poem. That's something I guess . . . Here's what I've got so far:
Lonesome Thing
the grind of wheels against rail
whistles in the dark
the rattle of its fright cars
makes the dog next door howl.
old newspapers yellow and brown
old news wrinkling and worn-out.
Once bold, crisp, black on white pages
my hands refusing to throw them away.
. . . And my voice lies to you
you breathe into the telephone
when you realize I’m not paying attention.
I’m counting the cracks around the ceiling fan,
the number of holes I punched in the wall last night.
I need to run some errands tomorrow before lunch.
could be strong enough to crack open this colorless silence . . .
This may or may not be the "whole" poem. I haven't decided on length. I'm trying to take the advice from a writer online and just concentrate on each, individual line AND how to best connect each line to create a whole. it's going to go through a lot of changes before I say it's "finished."
Finally got this poem pretty much where I wanted it. I submitted it to this Facebook site I'm on and the administrator deleted it from the site. No explanation, just deleted it. So, I got myself and my poetry off his damn site. Hee! I know, I'm being a bit pretentious about it. But I didn't have many people actually interested in my poetry on that page, and not many of them ever left a comment.
Kimm also told me that she's planning to move to Washington state! Her mom moved out of state (Texas, I think) to get closer to Kimm's brother, and Kimm's son is in Seattle, so . . . It bothers me, her leaving. I know, we don't have a "thing" but I was hoping that we might have one. No, nothing like that! Or quite like that. I just like her a lot, like being around her. Hell, I don't see her that often now, and we're in the same state! I'll NEVER see her EVER again if she moves to the west coast.
Thursday, June o6, 2o14
Well, so Tuesday at 2 in the morning I'm on the Facebook, and I get a strange comment from someone I don't know: Your mother's in the hospital. Call your sister if you want more information. Hmmm. That was odd. since it was late, I didn't call my sister here in Oklahoma. I went to bed. And sure enough, at eight in the morning my sister calls telling me this horror story about mom falling and the doctors saying she busted her hip, and they can't operate on her because she's old and that there's only a 50/50 chance she'd survive. The wanted to just put her in a home right away. But the guy who sent me the comment (found out he's the "boyfriend" of my other sister who lives in Cali) said not with out the family talking it over first. So, my sister and I spent about a half an hour or so talking about it. Found out she didn't have a broken hip, but a pelvic facture which is the better of two medical situations. So, I called Kimm and cancelled going to Tulsa this weekend to make sure I'm around town in case my sister needs me.
On Facebook everybody goes on and on about family, how much they love them, how much they mean to them . . . and although I don't hate my family . . . well, like I said, I've been pretty much on my own my whole life. I don't have the same feelings that my other friends have. Sometimes my insensitivity to the social order of things makes me sad, makes me feel less than human.
Saturday, June o7, 2o14
Here it is the end of the first week in June . . . and I've barely written anything on this blog, and pretty safe to say what I have written . . . is insignificant! I look at blogs of my friends, Angel Davis in particular, and they are saying things . . . important . . . thoughtful . . . sometimes funny. And me? Well, nothing I've written seems to be even slightly interesting.
I've start working on a new poem. That's something I guess . . . Here's what I've got so far:
Lonesome Thing
Too lonesome a thing for me, this
midnight.
The shadow train slinking slowly
alongthe grind of wheels against rail
whistles in the dark
the rattle of its fright cars
makes the dog next door howl.
Too many midnights stacked up
in the corner of my one room
apartmentold newspapers yellow and brown
old news wrinkling and worn-out.
Once bold, crisp, black on white pages
my hands refusing to throw them away.
. . . And my voice lies to you
you breathe into the telephone
when you realize I’m not paying attention.
I’m counting the cracks around the ceiling fan,
the number of holes I punched in the wall last night.
I need to run some errands tomorrow before lunch.
Yes, midnight is far too thick a
thing for me.
Hard to breathe it all in, swallow it all that down.
It’s difficult to imagine that any
amount of daylight Hard to breathe it all in, swallow it all that down.
could be strong enough to crack open this colorless silence . . .
This may or may not be the "whole" poem. I haven't decided on length. I'm trying to take the advice from a writer online and just concentrate on each, individual line AND how to best connect each line to create a whole. it's going to go through a lot of changes before I say it's "finished."
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