process

Thoughts on the Third Floor

 

Striking the keys in my notebook

I think about the syntax of my unfinished paragraph.

Research is locked inside my vault, and won’t commit itself
to paper. As I take a

breath of fresh, recycled library air, I lift my eyes beyond
my computer screen,

past the orange chair to my right

out of the long picture window, above the valley but below
the sun.

 

 The moisture in the air mixed with orange hues of light

 looks like me—it seems to hold thoughts of its own; thoughts
made of water that

resist the ground (but who could blame them?).

On the other hand, my pages need filling and we need the
water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Untitled

My little son killed a hamster 

today

held it so tight 

its tiny heart stopped

and I cried

not for the hamster so much

as for myself

trapped

waiting for circumstances

to squeeze the life out of me

Author's Notes/Comments: 

1987

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tags:

To Rachel

Just you and me

You are unhappy

We rock

I fend off your cries 

with an endless refrain,

"Hushabye, don't you cry

go to sleep my little baby"

desperate to comfort you

Finally you succumb to sleep

dreaming your baby dreams

of eating

Now I cry

aching for this consolation

that no one gave me

and hating you

because I love you

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was for my youngest, Rachel.

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Sorry, Could You Say That Again?

Yes, I hear you.

I'm giving you all the attention I could possibly give you,

But the problem here is simply that I can't process you.

 

Now allow me to explain.

You see, the vibration and number of sound waves in a woman's voice makes it harder for men to decipher what you're saying.

When it comes to processing a woman's voice,

We use the more complex auditory part of our brain.

This part of the brain is for processing music and poetry.

The most beautiful thing the human ear can hear!

 

When you speak, I get lost in a melody.

Your mouth is moving, that I can see,

But something just takes over me.

This melody sets my mind free.

 

And though nothing you just said adheres,

Your voice is music to my ears.

…So could you just repeat that last thing you said again?

 

- The Truth

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I've been writing in class a lot lately, and I think it's really starting to show in my work. This one is about how men's brains process voices.
Let me know what you think. It's inspired by a moment when I has having my first in depth conversation with this girl I know and I was afraid she didn't think i was listening to her.

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Hotter and Hotter

I was made on a house
That moves up and down
And side to side with the water

I was handbuilt
Dried in the sun
Put in a kiln that got hotter and hotter

I was cooled down
Then given a colorful glaze
Put back in the kiln for my final phase

Taken back out
For the Artist to see
All of my charm and personality

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