Monday, April 14, 2008

A Dashboard Meditation

I look out, half-blind
from tearing, swollen eyes.
The Mercedes cuts a swathe

through tattooed crowds
sweat-slicked foreigners
mocha-skinned whores.
I'm a sullen ghost,
driven, alone,
in a cloud
of cool air, to your world.
I want to capture evidence:

one small, good deed,

an attempted peace offering

lost to the ether.
I used to write poetry when I was younger, short verses forged from a pain I couldn't shake loose even by painting. I'd scribble them in the margins of my sketchbooks or on random scraps of paper. Nearly all were lost or thrown away, usually before they were read by anyone else.
Something about the see-saw mood I've been in since I arrived in South-East Asia has made me want to write poetry again. If anything, I've been writing as much as I've been drawing or painting. When I'm depressed or when I'm missing someone I love, creating collages of impressions out of simple, arhythmic words gives my emotions more specificity and enables me to deal with them better.
A picture is worth a thousand words. Too often, though my pictures end up in public. My words I get to keep to myself. Most of them, anyway.


Anonymous said...

thank god you don't keep them all to yourself. these are great. thank you.
jenni b.

Yamabuki said...

water slices the earth
broken rocks groan
your eyes, your eyes
reflecting the moon
is there nothing left for us?

Mia said...

Beautiful woman your words are a scalpel to cut out the rot of denial. Love your words just as much as your pictures.