Keeping Still

52

Keeping Still. Keeping his back still

So that he no longer feels his body

He goes into his courtyard

And does not see his people.

No blame.

I have no idea where I'm going with this although I've written it a hundred times already in my head. Riding my bike, sweeping the floor, drinking with Tony, sleeping at night, watching dinner being made.

I cry every time I do.

It wasn't hard really.  This thing wasn't.  Now I have some things about me that I just can't stop from doing.  Over and over.  But this thing was easy.  

I turned it all off.

Just can't listen to the shit anymore.  No more 24 hour pusher.  Turned it all off.

Stillness is a state of movement.
Movement is a state of stillness.

I couldn't look at my people anymore. Everyone is/was suspect. I was let down.  Stay in the courtyard.Don't move.Stay.Be still.

Still.

When I heard people talking about this or that, I had to turn away.  Too much.
Be Still.

When it did creep in like it does from the side, from just outside the peripheral, it jumps on the back of the neck.  It aims for the back of the neck.
Or right exactly at the center of the center.
But when you're still, it loses interest in you and like smoke just goes into the air.
Don't listen, don't pay attention.

Love.
Do my art.
Make.
Think.








A Robin called out one rainy night in Chicago.
Move now.  It's time to move.
With beeswax and yarn, it's time to move.
And bits of string.
Shout when you see something
Point when you see something
Be the Vocal Witness.
Of the unspeakable horrors.
Lose something if you have to.

January 20, 2017