4/20/13

an ardent night.
The night I found out Laura broke up with him,
making her a single mother.
I listened to her weep on the phone,
prayed,
and watched Submarine.
I don’t know why I become this passionate,
but I am glad for it.

Th’Aarn sleeps silently in the bed behind me.
once in a while, he shifts,
and occasionally moans.
I sit here, never wanting to sleep again,
but to drive until August forces me back to my studies.
to pray into a timeless eternity.
to run on a beach that never ends in an industrialized capita.

And once we hear the sirens singing us to sleep,
I know the fear within my mind is surrendered to that of my dreams.
I know you’ll turn around and be the face I’ve grown old with.
I know You’re everywhere.
There’s a wading into moving water that astounds those
who have never been taken out by it.
I forgot a bright eyed summer,
and the freedom that it brought me,
rich with granola and toothpaste.
When I flew to Africa,
(my wings got tired)
and my toothpaste spilled into my backpack.
I think I’ve lost hold of the stories I used to tell.
I think they’re less of my life
and more of a reel of 8mm film I play before spectators.

I think I’ll go get lost.

Does the Lord command an audience,
or have we just traded in
a heart we held with infant hands
for robots we’ve trained within?
I once was lost inside a church,
the lights were all turnt out.
I screamed at bloody murderers
and the girls would run and shout.
how long ago did I grow up,
this vomit on my skin?
I swear I didn’t mean to,
but I looked away as he crept in.

Cape Cod, I’m chasing a youth I left somewhere on this peninsula.
I may have left it beneath a giant red X,
or in the attic of a church,
or in a surf shop.
I’m looking for a living, breathing story.
Holy Spirit, are you this story that’s deeper than words?
I tell it so You can breathe life into it.
You’re the magic in the words,
you’re the timelessness of nostalgia.

I love You

I love You

I love You.

Illuminate this tale.

e