So, today your mind feels like leaky pants
where someone’s placed a fresh-caught
snapper? Didn’t you know you were winding
up your hearts to let them run willy-nilly
through the crazed world? Perhaps you were
distracted by the candlelight, the wine, the
velvet fog in the speakers. Sure, you feel
foolish now, dangling your hopes and dreams
off the balcony. Who knew the hawk was so
close? We all push the pull door from time to
time. So what if you’re corrupted and never
whole again? Being holy only leads to wind
whistling through your chamber. This pastoral
of endurance and death is more than a
downhill tumble: 1) Everybody’s doing it; B)
We all need the warble of art to shoo the
demons. You’ve made a long-term investment
in Mojave ice sculptures and now you’re
amputated from the pursuit of happiness.
Don’t think of it as a life-long sentence of
suffering, but more like a kaleidoscope of
kittens and razorblades. Take this dark
Wednesday night of the soul and orient it
toward the light.