archival.
scrabbling scrytch-not-scrytch
scrytching not-scrytch but damn if it isn’t all scrytch and maybe that’s the real point.
a big scar (scrytched)
a big scar, even from afar, a big scar, as big as you are, floating into view like a car following an elephant’s ass. long as a touchdown on a football field. floating in, full of pain and swelling and heated blood, the sweat of striving, soaked in the skin. floating and puffing as it rises, coming like jung’s shadow. no, wait, its just more words.
sem sol
em tentar ao abrigo, evicted. in trying to shelter, evicted. em tentar conservar, quebrado. in trying to conserve, destruction em tentar ao amor, odiar. in trying to give love, finding hatred. em tentar emendar, para arruinar. in trying to amend, finding only ruin. i demasiado, odiar-me-iam. i am tired… eu sou tired de acusar e sendo acusado. tired of being accused, tired of accusing, minha raiva é mesmo tired. sore ao osso. even my anger is weary, sore to the bone.
in the dust
every now and then, when least expected, when least deserved, someone is kind. and when they are, i am so pointedly aware of my own flaws and faults that it is difficult not to just curl up and weep forever for the sense of hopelessness and despair, me with myself. here, a friend, being a friend, when it would have been all too easy not to bother. thank you. thank you, friend. for believing. for trusting. for caring. for all the things i so often am unable to be, and for being my friend anyway.
mere-muir-mier
in the redwood groves, where there is only silence, where no voice speaks, where lessons are learned, we walk and look not to the sky, but the ground, mindful feet counting out the paces that are patience, and will to peace. in the canopy, all around, there is life, and even in the silence, noise, soft squirmings as the earth is turned by humble creatures, whirrs, chitters, and scuttlings as the things found too small to be noticed go about their duty of making redwood groves possible. some say that in sunlight, silence is most severe. but in truth, it […]
with all due respect…
From: ****** Subject: Re: FW: Scrytch – An Invitation Date: Thu, 11 Jan 2007 14:52:05 +0000 Wait. Never mind. Got caught up on reading. All is clear-ish. … i doubt that sincerely. but it does lend insight to the circles within circles and the reality that is simply thus — some would rather kill a thing than see it grow by the hand of another. this, a lesson many times given in this, from those. this is not the first time a comatose form has been resuscitated. but it is the last. and it is done as much for each […]
ironies and oddites and synchronicities
archival. some lessons are hard. some lessons are harder. and some… some lessons seem impossible. sigh.