Someone I was very close to said they needed to “protect” themselves by isolating. I wrote this after realizing sometimes we “cave” to protect ourselves, when what we really need to do is talk things through, so we can discover what is the truth, instead of just imagining what we THINK is going on.
To protect yourself/
it is best to discover/
what is really true.
Maybe I should just
focus on getting my life/
in shape, sans females.
My friend saw my life,/
and said: “Had I your life, I’d/
kill myself.” Ooooookkaaaaaaayyyyyy!?!
OR
Okay.
When your life changes/
suddenly, you may wonder/
why it took so long.
When my friends need me,/
I’m always there. When they don’t/
I just disappear.
Today I got an email from a relative, entitled “How to catch Obama”. It shows a box trap with a watermelon attached to the trigger.
Having just seen the movie “The Help”, I can only agree with Malcolm X, who wrote that the deepest, worst prejudice doesn’t come from the South, but is hidden in the North … until it is exposed.
To smell prejudice,
don’t search deep in Southern swamps.
Mother’s emails reek.
The best way for us/
to memorialize is/
to do what we love.
————
I know it’s a week after 9-11, but … I wrote this poem the day after 9-11-2011, inspired by friends who told me they were out on their boat relaxing.
On that “9-11 Memorial Day” 2011, I:
*Visited the Golden Spike Historical Monument AND the Spiral Jetty (something I’ve always wanted to do)
*Jumped in a golden field under a dark blue and puffy white cloud sky (something unexpected)
*Drank a fresh peach shake in Brigham City, Utah.
*Visited a field of flags and a new firemen statue in Sandy, Utah
I wondered what YOU did to “do what you love” on 9-11 — to memorialize those victims — and our first responders and military — by pursuing our freedoms? You can comment here.
I did not see them
When I shot the video
Of thousands of flags
In a Utah field,
Each representing
a lost 9/11 victim.
But when I was editing,
They were there.
Ghosts.
Shadows dancing in and out
Of the flags.
Wives.
Fathers.
Sons.
Daughters.
Husbands.
Mothers.
First responders.
People.
Laughing.
Crying.
Holding.
Walking.
Talking.
Those who were remembering
Became they who must
be remembered.
We must be ghosts
To each other,
To haunt ourselves
into remembering,
so we never forget.
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ZWz2qyvelI]
Sometimes the doldrums/
of the everyday leave you/
with nothing to say.
I don’t need to get
my own way. I want to be
heard and understood.