Cycles

We are here again. You know where we are.

It is like everything you have every read. Like an echo caught on itself.

But there are other ways to hear, other ways to listen. None of these storms give one flying fuck about anything anyone holds dear - their mathematics makes minced meat of all those 100 year homes. The business end of each rain band tears everything until it dies. Look, people lost all their photos and all their children. Then they got on TV. In the far background Kamp moved into the street and family to the woods. But we are entranced by all the wind and its numerical rank - FIVE.

Apparently, I have an obsession with myself. Its a strange riddle because I like who I have become and I will not be made to apologize for that acceptance. Nor do I expect any self reflection from others. Your head is your own. It certainly ain't mine!

I admit from the get-go that I am broken; that I have only begun to learn about such things as "love" and the value of these genetic attachments. Get it? I know very little. And of that I am uncertain. But there is a certain cultural expectation about how one interacts with family. So I try. If you ain't pickin' up what I be puttin' down - then, well, see ya later. If ya are, then I'll be right here.

Anonymous tries too. I see that and disregard all the bile. Stay. Go. Your choice. We share blood, so I hope you stay, but I have been wrong before. You may actually be irrelevant. Hard to imagine, I know. But truth is truth.

I choose to emphasize the positive and the silent. I know that the anonymous hatred is not the consensus view. There are threads that will see some of us through even if unspoken. If some hidden someones choose not to recognize them: Oh Well.

No skin from my nose.

If hatred, suspicion and fear are your way

forward - I wish you well, even as I plot
your every defeat. Anonymously



of course.

(it is so easy to [re]join. Only the desire to remain hidden is the reason for not doing so and that is a questionable position taken only by cowards and those actively denying their truer nature)

Of Wind and Pressure Release

I don't need to tell you about the winds. The trees scream all day and the dead wood has shed across the city. Spun rain bands pulse from the eye centered just about here where the very air has been lifted skyward and the pressure released.

There is a scar on my sternum that tracks every movement of this storm with throbs and the dull swell of an ache. The window creaks with my bones but the pitch is less ominous like a glacier these push through the flow.

No Surprise

October

The rumblings have become gales as the distant storms grow closer.

We expect frost this weekend. I relish the thought. No BS. Its the relentless nature of nature that I respect. Because I am godless I understand that some forces cannot be overcome no matter how hard I pray. This shit could kill me. Nature is all like, "The seasons are gonna change, yo! So y'all best git usta it. Sheit, man!" While I'm still dreamin' that cops can stop drive bys and that all those good ol' boys mean me no harm. Sh*t m*n, I'm one f**kin' delud*d du*e, eh?

Colors have turned. Leaves too, perhaps. All the while, Bart keeps running
marathons and returning to Chicago (like Rahm).

Me? I like the scent of decay that comes with autumn rain - I reminds me of nothing but

the slow rage of centuries; the certainty of sunrise even amid all this doubt. Thoughtlessly i have survived, with purpose I will move on. Despite anchors and a particular albatross

this is a hill I will climb. Each dying leaf gives me strength and I change

with the season, become a 4 petal rose or a 2 second shit.

Sarcasm is often my armor of choice and the safest jokes are those that only I get. I am uneasy
when understood, and so I try to be obscure
because it makes me feel superior.

(How do you feel superior?)

Meanwhile, humility speaks softly and tells stories of liberty and the loss of facade. Besides, everyone in the universe is smarter than I. Statistically at least.

Where am I me? Who will go there with me?

I will. You will too.

We're this thing called "family" after all, right? If it were a commercial or a pop-up ad you'd believe it and I would too. Do we need to rent a billboard? I don't understand marketing either, but if we restricted the universe to things I understand we would barely be two dimensional, and that is no way to live. A well-dressed and well-heeled lunatic, I forever pound at the city gate, but that's a "horse of a different color", so to speak. There is no good reason to bet against us - even my mother would agree with that.

Where are you this October? (you can easily rejoin).