“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

12.05.2011

reverb 11: addition through subtraction. a day late.


there is always a point where i turn away from looking back.
where i look up and out and forward
where the year that was is the year that was
and all the words have already been said
and i weary of saying them again.

it is christmas time, i think,
and i want angels and carols and twinkling lights.
i drive through the streets i sit on my couch i lay on my bed
and i invent stories.


addition through subtraction.
what have you let go of this year
and how has it affected you?

reverb 11

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i let go of nothing willingly.
i held on i grasped i promised i promised
but in the end my fingers were weak.
that would explain why the winter air makes them ache.

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story 1:  Byron sits with his back to the blinking lights, smoking in the darkness.  Early December, Christmas splattered across his front lawn.  It is too warm.  Muggy.  The cold weather predicted for that afternoon a no-show.  He sits in the silence, grateful to be alone, just those blinking lights for company.  It is just that one strand that blinks, the whole strand at once, on, off, on, off, on, and only if the drapes are closed.  They are strung on the inside of the picture window, the better to cheer up his falling-down house, and he knows he should check it out, investigate the blinking before it burns them all down, but there is something soothing about that rhythm and the silence and the red green yellow yellow red red on off on off, and so he doesn't.  Instead, he sits on the porch in the darkness and lights another cigarette.  He inhales.


so let me change this prompt.
i am already a day late,
the rules have been broken,
if rules there are,
so why not this instead?
what will i let go of and how will it affect me?
silly, that last bit, no way to know the future,
but i will start with this.

i will let go of holding people in their boxes.
byron, for instance.
until he wandered out for a cigarette the other night,
i'd not given him much thought.
certainly no sympathy.
perhaps i still don't.
but if i let him out of his box i have a beginning.

i myself don't believe in boxes,
a friend made that clear.
i let go of that a long time ago.

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10 comments:

  1. love. love love love.
    that photo!
    and see, i knew there were stories. :)

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  2. Always an out-of-body experience to visit here; I am immediately in the middle of a small, timeless Texas town with its textures and ambiance; a scene with film noir lighting, but carnival colors.

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  3. You are magic.

    Letting go is so hard. I always forget the beauty it involves.

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  4. Deep thinking here. Now I must think about letting, what I don't know, out of the box. Yes, I am sure there is a need there, but must find it in that box.

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  5. Your way with words leaves me speechless. We've walked an amazingly similar path this year and reading your words is like seeing my own soul unveiled. Thank you~

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  6. I am always surprised with your posts...raw honesty...pure...in detail and insight. As always...thank you!

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  7. tonight my words from the Universe were "Not the pain, Julienne, or the relief. Not the answer or the question. Not the challenge or the victory. The song or the sparrow...Nothing is random."

    Therefore my coming to you tonight was not random either I was meant to read your first words...to cry...to know that at last I am looking out and forward...to know that now is the right time for my new blog...to know that I too am looking forward to Christmas, we will be one short but everyone else will be there so it will be god.
    Thank you so much for this I was meant to be here and to read!

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  8. Well, you asked what I have lost and what I need to let go...
    And my problems are SO insignificant that I am almost ashamed to report...
    But I lost my cat this past year--the cat with the generic name of "Kitty"...
    So now, time has passed, but I still find myself wallowing in self-pity...
    Thinking that if this is how love ends--then love really, really sucks...
    Hopefully I'll find a way out of this box in the coming year...
    Thank you for your understanding.

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  9. donald - it is not a small loss. maggie has been gone closer to 2 years than one, and i felt her loss still, even while dealing with the loss of my mother. i still do, new cat in the house or no.

    i hope you do find a way out of that box. it's a big one, no matter what anybody says.

    take care.

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  10. Don't think I'm not catching the meaning...or inhaling all that you write with deep thought. Because I do. And I do, long after I leave here. Your wisdom sticks with me. But sometimes, ok, many times it's a simple sentence or word that makes me smile when I read your blog.
    This time...
    Christmas splattered across his front lawn.

    So perfect!

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come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .