vehicles.
2006-07-14 11:06 a.m.
my language falters, struggles just to step forward, finds comfort in the words of others, mirrors them and tries to reflect.these sentences, similar, do not relate to one another, do not
communicate
our intentions, are tragic, are conspicuously lacking.
elemental, the bicycle and the pavement, the walking just for movement - these rooms
close in, show stagnation, are slow to fill back up.
and i
i need to be filled, i need to overflow, i need to voice this struggle, this common struggle, this economic crisis, this romance in decline.
and i
i need to climb back up and get into the saddle, i need
to feel the sand and see the water,
i need
to dry out, to learn new methods.
these hands, once nimble, are testimonies to how i've been disabled, changed and uninspired, situated
and encumbered. these checks in my skin, these pockmarks, are lists, are projects in completion, and i make the effort
and i build the distance
and i put the struggle
back into my body, a wealth of shortcomings, of wars always waging.