Being Tiny in the Locks

.1.

Stocked up on Mountain Dew, t-shirts, a bad attitude,
and memories of better days,
I traveled on my way into the "Lock."
There must've been a thousand trees on the way,
crowned in bright green.
River to my left.
Mountains to my right.
There wasn't a cloud in the sky.
I was so infinitessimally small, cramped in that
backseat with suitcases and food.
I was so infinitessimally small looking at nature.
I was so inifinitessimally small,
being crushed by the mountain of my childhood.

.2.

We've had that trampoline since I was 6.
It stood in our side yard of the blue house.
Sometimes the automatic sprinklers would come on
while we were jumping, cooling us off from the
Arizona heat.
I was sitting on that trampoline 13 years later
reading poetry.
A ladybug landed on my finger.
It was a naked ladybug. No dots, not one black dot on its back.
It landed and stayed.
I looked, stared, and marveled at this wonder of nature
until it stayed on my finger for an unnaturally long time.
I tried to move my finger so it would fly away and live its
simple life again.
It wouldn't leave.
I felt small in that moment when that ladybug wouldn't leave.
I was smaller than that ladybug.

.3.

You should bathe every minute of your waking life.
But instead, you were both laying in the tent at 8pm,
masturbating.
I sit on a forest green fold-up chair,
musterbating,
wishing I had done this,
wishing I had done that.
That creeping bug crawsled up the fire pit
and I watched him die.
I didn't feel guilty watching him die.
I didn't feel happy watching him die.

I only felt guilty when I was walking that dirt road
back to the tent,
with that [dust filling my lungs],
thinking of that [disease filling your body.]
I only felt happy listening--
listening to the fire crackle,
listening to the chopping of wood,
listening to the chug-a-chug-chug of the train,
listening to the wind howl.
It all reminds me of your voice.

.4.

I am bad for the bugs.
It's not that she was a good woman,
It's that she kept saying those nice things.

I'm bad for the bugs
because I'm suicidal and homicidal.
Before I killed you, before I killed me,
I roasted some licorice and mike and ikes over a fire.
Then I killed you by my
laughter.
And I killed me by my
sorrow.

.5.

Are you listening to my silence?
Can you hear my quietness?
My silence is retreating.
My quietness is drowned out by the noise of
emotions inside of me, inside of you.
It's dark inside.
It's dark outside.
My eyes have adjusted to this darkness.
My body has too--it knows how to move in darkness.
My heart knows how to beat, accept defeat, bleed.

They have each other.
He has everyone.
The loneliest I ever felt was in a crowd.
The quietest I ever was was by myself.

Do you know how to see in darkness?
Do you know how to move in blackness?
feel feel
the movements in the darkness
listen listen
to my silence in loneliness.


.6.

I scattered the deck of cards
and drank all the alcohol.
I'm not a gambler.
And I'm not a drunk.
I'm paying my debts off with my life.
I'm purging earthly toxins from my body.

There's a song in my heart--
a song of joy and sadness.

Bom bom bom
Tee diddle doo yay!


.7.

I shivered at your arrival
But I kept my toes warm.
I protected my heart with walls of concrete and steel
but your love still
blew
right through that.
Your cool, refreshing love went right through
my guard--tore it right down.

But wind is only a passing presence.


.8.

Dee boddle da
la dee
Bee doddle ba
ta bee
Lee toddle doo
bee da
See poddle too
vee ta


.9.

I could walk in that darkness without a light.
I felt the path with my feet.

Do you know how the faithful walk?


.10.

Those mountains could reach up an arm
and touch that sky.
The mountains could hold up the sky
if it would just reach up that arm.

But the mountains know how things work.
The mountains know that their
majesty and power
comes from standing tall,
being autonomous,
not by being
servant
to the sky's demands.


.11.

Who keeps the mountain warm at night?
Is it the God of the heavens?
Is it the Devil of the air?
Is it the simple Man on earth?

It is God who is as the mountain,
who needs no care.
It is the Devil who would wish to be the mountain,
as God.
It is Man who destroys the mountain,
"takes dominion" over it, over nature,
placing himself higher than God.

Nature takes care of itself for it has no one else--
Not the Creator
Not the Rebel
Not the Created


.12.

I was not ready for the utter beauty in the Lock.
I was not prepared to be the key to that Lock.
I was not equipped to be the answer to the questions.

I can't climb:
:that mountain
:swim that river
:sing that song
:chop down that tree
:strike that rock
:pick that flower

How can I be the answer to the question
I don't even know?
How can I open the Lock
I don't even know exists?


.13.

I wish I knew how to describe
the wind on that day.
That Sunday.
That Sunday with the bugs crawling all around me.
I had no fears.
That Sunday sitting by the river in solitude,
walking that dirt road.
River water crashed at my feet.
Oh the bugs!
I was beyond small.
The sky could have swallowed me up,
if the sky did eat dust.
I was dust on the river.
A mere speck of dust on that river of solitude.
Tiny.


.14.

I forgot the beauty of something I never knew.
Standing next to those mountains,
Being misted upon by the waterfalls, however huge,
however small,
Sitting by the wide river, growing wider every
minute by my imagination.

I missed the bridge on the way back over.
I'll be stuck in beauty forever.


.15.

With each rock that fell--splashed--in that river,
my freedom flew a little higher.
I threw a rock.
I grew a wing.
I threw yet another.
I gained a second wing.
I threw more rocks.
And soon, I took flight.
With each weighted rock that I dropped,
I flew higher and got lighter.

Freedom smells sweet:
It is purple wildflowers,
dirt roads,
innocence.
Freedom tastes sweet:
It is your skin.
It is love and lust.

With you I know my freedom.
I do not ask questions.


.16.

I knew before the wind came.
I could feel it rustle my heart.

I knew before the train came.
I could feel it rumble my soul.

Do the gods know I like them?

I saw those pillars of wood,
standing in a cluster.
Those bugs crawled around me but knew
to not climb on me.
The ladybug landed on my cowboy hat and sat.
We rested together.

I threw those rocks by the Bridge of the gods.
Their spirits rustled.
Their spirits rumbled.

Do I know the gods hate me?


.17.

I was on that road of solitude too, you know?
The only one under that sky.
The only one drowning in that river.
The only one hiking that mountain.

I wanted to lie down on the ties of the
railroad tracks.
Just lie there until I fell asleep.
I wanted a train to run over me
and for once I didn't want it to wake me up.

I dreamed the dream that was never ending.


.18.

Rocky road.
(ice cream)
No, that's a different thing.
I rested on a rocky road,
in between
a river

and railroad tracks.

Either way it's suicide.

Brambles! Oh the brambles!
I saw a bird in those brambles.
I am smaller than that bird.
The bird that sings of me.
The bird that sings to me.

I will spend the rest of my
tomorrows
trying to learn
what the bird
was trying to teach me
today.

"Scree! Scree!"
Was all it said.


.19.

I had become so small
that I thought I had died.
But I was writing about it.
No, I was not dead.
My death will come the day I have
no words to say.


.20.

I know you went over to his house tonight
and I wished that I were there
instead of here.
But it was just a dream.

Besides, I'm smaller here.

chirp chirp
grow grow
gurgle gurgle
chug-a-chug
crawl crawl
sing sing


.21.

It is not necessary for me
to write you every road I've taken
or
to photograph every sunset I've seen.

Some things I need for myself.
Some things I need only in my head.

I will not tell you of that building.