Day eighty-two

My own Eulogy

Save your tears., there will be

none at my grave sight. No talks

of how good of a person I was,

no lies about my character

and how I was the most honest

person you would ever meet.

Just read a poem or two then

break out into laughter as you

retell all the embarrassing

moments I had when I was

alive, like the time that I ran

straight into a parked school

bus. How I had a toilet paper

tail in the porn shop on my

eighteenth birthday. Laugh

and laugh out loud about

the silly stupid things I've

done. Hug each other finally

meet one another. Each of

you has a quality I admire

and respect. Find that feature

in those who sit solemnly

beside you. Death's never

a fun occasion. At my funeral

play one giant game of Catch

Phrase and finally most

important of all, invite a

stranger and in the quietest

moment of the funeral

burst into a flash mob

for ten minutes and resume

the funeral as if nothing

had ever happened.

15:55

Day eighty-one

Letter to God

Show me that you exist and you aren't

fairytale make believe. I've knocked on

your front door. Asked to be invited in

but I still wait outside unattended like a

traveling shoe salesmen. Maybe its

too much to ask for the Holy Spirit

to show itself like a descending dove.

I want a sign, some proof that you are

there and I am not crazy.

The world's full of divisions and every

priest, pastor, and minster has something

different to say about you. You are like

someone describing a taste.

But maybe I ask too much

maybe I'm too young spiritually speaking,

like a child who asks his mother

how electricity works, to which

she replies, it just does.

15:30

Day eighty

Synesthesia

Forget first sight, let's believe

for just a singular moment that

Love has nothing to do with sight.

Eyes closed. Your voice travels

in waves, osculating against the

hard air. Life's just vibrations.

Smell's important too. The odors

lifting from hair and skin are all

too pleasant. Touch and taste

follow only after sight and smell.

There is no outer beauty, only

beauty or no beauty at all. Plastic

Hollywood surgeries mean nothing

The rhythm and melody of your

language, your voice means everything.

Your hair smells blue and your voice

sounds purple. Is this how blind

people love?

15:08

Day seventy-nine

Complaint

You're never here when I want you to be

I wish I had a silver bell to summon

you when the mood strikes. Do I need

to drink more? Will you come out of

your hiding hole? You're cheating on me

You're cheating on me with the guy

next door. You know I need you, so just

relax and help me out. Remember that time

we spent the whole morning together

without a care in the world? Was it

the coffee? No, we didn't have coffee,

I was sitting right in front of you

and you worked your magic and I

stood by and it was all good. I hate

when you go away. Maybe I need to

invoke you like back in the old days

when all those Greeks had the fun.

I need you right now, beside me rub

my shoulders for good luck. You're

always gone when I need you.

7:39

epic failure.

Day seventy-eight

All our knowledge begins with the senses, proceeds then to the understanding, and ends with reason. There is nothing higher than reason. -Immanuel Kant

Higher than reason.

(Architecture of a poem unwritten)

Line one: Something about Kant and how he didn't believe in miracles

Line two: Reiterate line 1 with a substantial metaphor.

Line three: Something about reasoning and the rational mind

Line four: A simile about the mind and the rational mind.

Line five: Nature imagery. juxtaposition of nature and religion. Perhaps a church in a meadow.

Line six: Metaphor about the image above. More nature.

Line seven: Tie in higher than reason with "God" and how He could be higher than reason

Line eight: Question tie in with God and add metaphor, perhaps alliteration

Line nine: More imagery and religious symbolism

Line ten: Final flourish, a question, employ assonance, rhyme, and a strong finishing image. perhaps something disturbing.

This was definitely a cop-out

15:55

Day seventy-seven

Waning Gibbus

There's always a sense of uncertainty

after the full moon's passed, something

about cycles. Lit by the bright moon

the sky and clouds continue to roam

in one direction, oblivious to the dark.

I sit in the driveway and look up wishing

for a star to bloom supernova. A sign

from God perhaps on this lonely night.

I am tense, but your voice calms me.

A possum silently cackles by, grimaced

by my presence. I should not be out

this late. The animals own the dim

and quiet places. The land around

me breathes and I exhale. There's

always a sense of uncertainty after

the full moon's passed, something

about cycles. There's always a sense...

15:18

Day seventy-six

Church

There's a natural radiance in

churches with stained glass.

Today I am at a Baptist Church,

the stereotypical images flash

in my mind, a triple K slideshow.

But there are no men in hoods

nor burning crosses, no condemnation.

She sits with me, a small smirk

lay on her face. She leans back

against the velvet covered

bench, like a bored student.

We are in the balcony overlooking

the congregation. When the choir

sings, She sings and with her

I am in the presence of God.

15:09