Redirecting Indirect to Direct

Touché

Sitting on spring’s porch,
listening to their songs,
my mind went traveling down my road.
Checked out the pebbles in my shoes
And that gum hang'n out on the underside.
You’d think it fall off already.

The gum is doubt. The pebble -

reassurance that there is still ground underneath.

_____________

I just had a great night. I gave up studying and searching for classes. Yeah, I think when I chucked my car to protest, I was pretty convinced I was done being a student for the day. I think I am going into my final on Wednesday with all the knowledge that stuck in the nogin. My studeious side is pooped.

So, I hung out with two singer friends of mine. Well actually I went to the neighbor's house (also a friend) to return a bag I borrowed back around the New York trip and wound up spending time on the singers' porch. I missed their show on Saturday, so they played me my own concert. How sweet is that! I am humbled by the opportunity life has given me. Music is a lifeline for me. It helps me to move through me and outside myself, and appreciate this particularly when I feel stuck in myself. Good peeps these two. They remind me why I like stringing words together. I am starting to realize, most people don't care to do this on a daily basis. I just thought everyone wanted to write.

I think I am done with the journaling posts for the summer. I'm not leaving. Just moving something around. I'm going to write poetry for the summer...or at least most of the summer, unless I need to decompress some part of the day in another medium. I don't know why...its a challenge...it'll make me try harder.

Its like this: I had an artist come to my coffee group this week and we drew movement. Not the model posing, but the movement. It was hard. It made me look at things in a different way. I guess want to draw the movement in my life - in words. Day-to-day writing is like writing about a well rehersed play. I lived my day, I know what happened. I want to find those parts of self I don't know and get to know them on this page. At least for the summer. I'm sure I'll need to go back later. Below is the final poem for the night.

_________________

, a Response

I’ve got a watcher watching me these days,
lost in what I might say,
hasn’t stopped to see me,
but lets me know I’m “seen” just the same.
Anonymity doesn’t hide you,
like my words don’t hide me on a open page.
I’m just wanting to blend the scope of me
into something to say.
Just trying to appreciate the authentic in all my days.