this is a strange pen April 22, 2018
this clock has a strange tick
one foot amputated so it walks on its hands
and flops from broken second
to broken second like a fish thrashing
on the deck of a leaky boat
spluttering in the cold water of a reservoir
trying to corral the mountain rivers
for a farm in the sand dunes
i write all of the words
and scratch them out like a hen
pecking in the dust. nothing
but dust and dry bones
and empty words
this is a strange pen that writes
but my heart in
scribbles and scratches like a frightened cat
wanting in. but your heart is hard
my ink limps and refuses a cane
no! i am still young!
go away and leave my in peace!
I’ve gone a bit lazy on my reading this summer. Does getting ready to start grad school and knowing I’ll be reading 2,000ish pages a weak for the next 4 years count as a good excuse to slack off for awhile?
64. 7/5/18 Bad Girls of the Bible, Liz Curtis Higgs. Skip it. I’m not even going to bother with all the ways this book is problematic and not worth the time to read. Evangelical clap-trap pretty much sums it up.
65. 7/12/18 The Satanic Verses, Salman Rushdie. Another skip it book. I figured this needed to be on my have-read list just because it’s famous and right up my academic alley. But as best as I can tell it’s a book that is only famous because it’s famous and not because it’s a good story.
66. 7/13/18 Velvet Elvis, Rob Bell. He’s written better books, I’d suggest Love Wins over Velvet Elvis but it’s alright.
67. 7/17/18 God: A Human History, Reza Aslan. This book is worth reading. I’m increasingly skeptical about the assumptions about “primitive” religion which remain prevalent in historical approaches but that’s a topic I could write a whole book on myself.
68. 7/27/28 The Tenth Parallel, Elisa Griswold. This was well worth reading. Her reporting is well-written and she’s careful to both address her own background and not to take sides. It’s both informative and enjoyable to read.
you know i write lies April 15, 2018
the airplanes fly right over my head
coming in to land
but you aren’t on any of them
so i don’t go to the airport
i have so little to write
because i have so much to say
but they are all words
growing mold and collecting dust
for they can only be whispered
to your heart in the dark
with my lips on your chest
and tonight my chest
is so tight with fears and tears
when i sneeze my ribs burn
but i don’t cry for you
and i wrote that i don’t care
(do i lie to myself
or only write what i wish was true?)
so much to write and so little to say
for how can i ever say
that i don’t care?
you will know i lie
you know i lie
to you all the time
for i am not really OK
as long as you are eight thousand miles away
and that airplane
might as well be empty
if you aren’t on it
do you hold my paper in your hands?
i forget half what i wrote
and i never spelled your name
and are you angry with me
that i began angry with you?
it was a small truth
but one you must know
to know me