"(a shiver came quick,
grabbed me up by the back of the neck
and shook me down to the floor.

     through my shoes        to the floor        to the core of the earth

I muttered something,
swallowed some air
science miracles monkeys
--a prayer--
I'll believe in anything when I'm there
I'm certain I've said that before)"




in the beginning
it's nervous,
quick to wonder and slow to decide.
and the beginning
is never ending,
quick to wander and slow to find.

the beginning
is maddening,
typed out cracks with dusty clicks.
little missteps
and falterings,
intention lost with knowing looks.

the beginning
starts fading,
moving through a steady rain
of washing

watching

wandering

and dulling thoughts of sober-sane.


dust
starts settling,
twinkling through a sunny day
eyes
start swinging,
reflecting green and blue and gray
...darting left and right and wrong
a single drum starts off the song
the feeling begins, a shaky flute
moving too fast and crashing through
a pane of glass, refracted light
morning skipping over night
the colors dancing in the corners
the windows covered with fading posters
the mantle covered with peeling books
the basement filled with bloody hooks
shower curtains,
baby jars,
pressing skulls with living wires
the pressing matters we attend
an herb tea-party that never ends
gurgling through to five a.m.
sunday starting over again
until everyday is halloween
and every night is stale caffeine
scarring over the daytime dream

...that daytime dream
second guessing
what did you say!?
what do you mean?!
don't play those wordy games with me
--even paranoids have enemies--
lock the door and
turn the key

leave me be.



============


...I'm sorry
I came here.
I'm sorry
you asked.

(I'm sorry but this too shall come to pass)

I'm sorry
the dust got in your eyes
I'm sorry
all those things were lies
I'm sorry
about the scarecrow
and the walk in the park
I'm sorry
it changed you
I know that it's hard.

I'm sorry
I have to write this
it's for me more than you

I'm sorry
you have to read this
(and thanks if you do)



the rhyme makes it sound cheap
and I'm serious now
I didn't mean to be:




sometimes in the spaces between the dirt and the driveway
or the covers of a book
or a blanket
you get lost.
sometimes
when it rains for too long
it catches all of that dust in the room,
and the dust turns to mud,
and sets into the carpet and chairs,
stains the bathroom floor,
slips up the stairs.
sometimes you don't want to get up in the morning
and sometimes you have to.
sometimes the clock shows 12:34
and sometimes you notice.
sometimes, I suppose,
you find yourself on a gameshow
proudly announcing yourself to be
"A homemaker and mother of two."
(though I sometimes doubt this)
and I sometimes doubt myself
and my intentions
and my capabilities
and my feelings.
sometimes my feelings fade out too quickly.
I think, anyway.
sometimes I fall right on my ass.
I don't always get up,
sometimes I just sit there with a stick stirring around all of that mud on the floor,
making it swirl and bubble and rubbing it into the carpet and chairs.
rubbing it into my hair and eyes and skin.
running it through my hands and putting it into my pockets.
saving it for later to rub on one of you. (I am sorry about that)
sometimes I'll call one of you and ask "What's going on?"
and sometimes I really won't know.
really.
I'll pretend, though, to make it easier for both of us.
sometimes I can't stand my own mind,
it'll make me sick just to think about it,
makes me sick just to think.
sometimes I can't stand this city,
makes me tired just to walk around it,
makes me snap my fingers impatiently when I walk around it.
makes me talk about it like I've been other places,
seen what it's like somewhere else and this place ain't that cool.
this place is boring or slow or the clubs aren't what they used to be
or the girls are all high-schoolers and not very bright or not very friendly
and it's too hot outside and it's too cold outside and I don't want to go outside
anymore.
not if I can help it.
maybe I'll move to that one place I always talk about. it's pretty cool there.
maybe.
sometimes I'm mean when I don't try to be,
sometimes that's all the more satisfying.
sometimes I walk into a room and the conversation makes me sick
and the television show makes me sick
and the radio-dating game call-in sex-chat makes me sick.
sometimes I'll turn off the television or the radio or the conversation.



and sometimes,
late at night,
the sky clears up and it gets a kind of dark and that peculiar circle of stars
sort-of in the west lights up real clear. the top right portion really doesn't have any stars but if you
concentrate a little too hard they'll show up and you can look into that peculiar circle of stars at that peculiar
time of night and see right through into oblivion. sometimes.
sometimes that makes you feel better.

and that's what it's all about, right?


I miss you, scott, the most.
I'm going out West next week and I wish you were too.
I'm not going anywhere this fall and I wish you weren't too.
but I'm glad you are.
I'm glad you are.




love ryan



"(and I'll believe in anything when I'm there

I'm certain...

I've said that...

before.)"

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