Sobbing in prison. Not just bizarre but quite ridiculous. I don’t mean crying. I mean the storm. The whole fuckin storm. Starts with a gentle tug & then the gates are thrown open & then the fall. Never a jump. Just a major dissent. Some painters do it for me - some poetry – a kiss – with out a doubt, death.
Evan’s been following me all day. Seems like he needs to talk. I’m scared. So very scared. It’s not fear of pain, frankly it’s the opposite. I walked outside late (for us) last night around 7:30. The moon was out full. Could not be missed. Could not be forgotten. Will be remembered and I thought where’s Noah, Colette, Jacob, Amanda, Kelly, Stacy, wonderful legions of friends, family, lovers. & I stopped & stared as if I were a glass unattended under a faucet on full blast. I couldn’t breathe. Evan. This life. This amazing fuckin life. I bow I fall I surrender. My father, John, who struggles so bravely without failure. I’m sure the word struggle neither defines or is a word he would accept. A brilliant soldier. No fear on the front lines & my mother, unfailing partner. Scared & probably angry though resolved. & my sister Pat, who along with her husband, is taking up the slack. I’m packed fill with emotion, concern & love for those I can’t touch, & those dried up bastards who judge & see punishment as some redemptive device. I’m tired of that bullshit. Playing some game. This world treds a razor fine line of joy & devastation of love & hate of black white of true universal truths. & America wants a perfect lawn care system. Build a better garage door & lock up those who spit into the wind. The wind ceaseless. The wind blind in direction. As I write justice. In my cell writing just reading My Friend Leonard (brilliant). Needed to catch a breath. Babbling to you of man’s insanity & Slim comes rushing in. The clouds have opened & nature has taken upper hand.
I don’t cry for myself. I sob for release. For those without. Those within. Those gone. Those soon to join. Those left behind. Those in between. For justice. For humanity. For the light to be left on. For prairie grass to take over mid-America. For Henry Ford to have never become or moronic George Bush. For silent. For hope. For Prayers. For rain. For another second to begin again. My tears are of life to tell me to go on. To retreat. My tears never of defeat. Of strength. My father taught me - to cry is to live – and Alex reminded tears allow your poisons to leave. Your sobs remind you that we are human & sad but true, when it’s over it’s over. There are no dress rehearsals so fuck your weeds & hug your child. Whisper in lover’s ear & have no fear. There is more, much more, than meets the eye, The heart. The soul.