Posted by marko on 11/7/2006, 12:11 pm father! father! where are you going? in case of emergency break the glass. don’t worry about the fire with fire. an eye for an eye. it’s not even close. no other information is volunteered. if there is any more a brilliant man—but a bad man. with just enough hesitation to but the lines are wiped out. my memory, especially those no logical progression that clearly adds up to now. no who shaped this position i’m cramped into?
65.167.39.226
letter to a stranger
o do not walk so fast.
speak father, speak to your little boy,
or else i shall be lost-wm blake
1.
the egg is cracked open. one in a million is satisfied beyond
a groan of pleasure, ten seconds of bliss is always a premium
in this life. when presented to us—it’s difficult to say no.
we pick it apart. we’re not sure what we’re looking for. we
often leave nothing but a mess.
contents. react, don’t think. if nothing else, the sharp slivers
can be used as a weapon against whatever went wrong.
we don’t need to understand why. only that our impulse flare
upward—signaling to strangers. strangers who may sympathize,
or not give a damn. but doesn’t it make more sense than
standing there doing nothing.
2.
a small piece of paper is slipped in my shirt pocket without a
word. i resist immediacy. this isn’t like me. i wait until i get
home to take it out. i had three names to go on—none my own.
but i needed to whittle it down to something i could grasp. the
possibilities in fact, are endless. strands of renegade dna
whipping me around like a carnival ride at night. nevertheless
i’m surprised to find none of the above. a name i’ve never
heard. a large city out west. further west than i’ve ever been.
information—it’s being withheld.
3.
i’m not sure what to think. not sure what to believe. not sure
how to react. why think at all. why believe in ghosts. why take
action, evasive or otherwise, when you can do nothing at all.
eventually all blends into an epiphany or further confusion.
but at the moment i’m unexpectedly ambivalent with what
i’d imagined would answer my questions. but this raises more
questions instead. i thought i might get a mirror image. i had
simplified it down to cut & dry. i was nine fingers from giving
up completely.
get a glimpse of hope, to feel a rise of confidence. then
slammed with more evidence to underline my self-loathing
in a tone dripping black periods, not blood red.
4.
i can’t be certain you exist beyond hard science. or if you
once thrust past an alternative of immaculate conception.
i have some trouble with that concept. whether two thousand
years ago or fifty, or maybe just yesterday in a isolated corner
of the world. billions of chaotic cells suddenly congeal in an
eye of a needle. space & time perplexed. religion & science
equally fallible. constantly being readjusted to suit the latest
facts—whether revelatory or penciled in equation. constantly
being squeezed to fit an agenda. or is there room for me in one
of these agendas. does anyone realize the amount of time lost
wondering? i stay away from quick judgments. even those that
bring me comfort, or anything approaching a plausible figure.
i’ve been lied to on numerous occasions. as everyone has.
mental health professionals claim i have trust issues. stopping
short of flat out accusation. but they’re not issues. there’s no
denying the validity of my concerns. i’m told i have paranoid
tendencies. doesn’t any sensible person?
5.
i think i remember a black & white photograph of a lanky
light-haired man towering over my mother. it looked to be
taken in my grandmother’s yard in summer. i could be wrong.
i may have dreamed it up. i think i remember a picture of a
dark-haired man smiling in the sand.
reaching back to childhood are unreliable. there are always
conflicting reports. there are no straight, unbroken lines
pointing to moments that verify what came before, or what
came later.
dependable chronology i can trace my finger along. no hard
copy. no test results. no witnesses willing to come forward.
only continuous deception—though threadbare & wrapped
in brittle brown newsprint.
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