Pickabar Blog

I never saw a cloud
Not a a single wrinkle in the sky
and the thing that cost me everything
was just a slice of warm pie

Like a blanket in a convict’s cell
I clung to you for warmth
and paid no heed to warning bells
I shrugged all warnings off

The day, my foe
Against me stood
with sharp words and with knives
circumstances took up arms for me
to shelter me from life.

…and yet, I hear no sirens
only the sweetest of bird song
I clung to death and lingering
one moment short of one moment to long.

The wind, once held

would lash the likes of knots

and turns

and rolls

and bind the hands of want and need

until the love of breathing fades

like conspirators under the wing of shade

more taut than any family bond

Bound!

Hold!

I yelled instead of singing the other day and it cost me my voice after only four songs. The next day, only a few hours later really, we had another gig at Punk Island. I don’t know how I sang four more songs.

I’d Say Nothing

I heard a distant rumbling and immediately thought of you.
If the end came before we had a chance to speak,
what would I say in my final moments?
Would I call out to you?
What would I say?

I’d say nothing

The bitter taste of loss would flood my mouth.
The tug of emptiness would stay my tongue.
And I would meet the end silent, scared and alone.

Stay with me.
Always.

And I’ll say nothing.

64 days ago
I fell down a flight of stairs
and I argued with myself
as I fell through the air

I landed on my face
and stood up without any pain
but I cried inside myself
because I hoped that I’d be slain

this world is full of tiny hurts
they build up just like snow balls
and I prayed that all that suffering
would stop once and for all

each morning when I awake
and see the edge of a new day
I think back to that moment
all my pain seemed to fall away

and I hope there’ll be another chance
to end this endless suffering
I plead to anyone listening
can’t you see me suffering?

can’t you see me suffering?

  I like the fall, it’s my favorite season. I consider myself a fall person more than a summer person. You get to wear layers, scarves, cardigans, all kinds of fun stuff. I think I look good in layers. Also, I wear tight pants so it’s hard to fit everything in my pockets.

We took the Amtrak train to Boston on Sunday. Sarah, Debbie, Kari, Craig, Dave, Julio-jitsu and myself. Kari’s parents treated us like honored guests and fed us delicious cornbread. I limped around on a bum heel and ate suspicious (but free) Chinese buffet food at Howard Johnson’s. I didn’t meet Ben Affleck.

My phone died. It keeps typing TTTTTTTTTTTTT, etc. My fifth one in about a year.

Now we’re back in the city. Back home. Anyway, another poem. I wrote it stumbling back to Kari’s parent’s house. I don’t know.

I Saw the Edge of Winter Coming

I saw the edge of winter coming,
have you seen it in the leaves?
The green has turned to auburn
and summer’s love is left bereaved

  I saw smoke in the sky,
  but I didn’t know from whence it came
  I closed my eyes to forget,
  but even blind I felt the same
  And despite what I had heard,
  time did nothing to dull the pain
  But it robbed me of my strength
  and left my spirit frail and lame

    I saw something last night
    that made my eyes begin to tear
    I heard a distant rumbling
    that made my heart shake with fear
    I heard a mournful trumpet pealing
    and saw dark clouds were drawing near.
    I rubbed my eyes to chase the darkness
    but knew the sky would never clear.

I saw the edge of winter coming,
have you seen it in the leaves?
I’ve seen the summer’s maiden bawling
sobbing as she grieved.

I saw the edge of winter coming.

Have you seen it?

Have you seen it?

I dreamt of you last night.

Not the type of dream that children have,
or old men have, or even those of teenage boys.

Not any type of dream I’ve ever dared to dream before.

This was a different thing for a different time.

I don’t know quite what it means,
but I dreamt of you.

I zoned out while taking a shower and this popped into my head:

Sometimes I dream of a magic blanket
I dream of pulling it over my head
and the part that makes the blanket magic
is the part that makes me dead