short stalks for immediate action

spice and fine: a cinder block stack of flags and one man proud to say this, another thing from another ribbons of every type and sort pinned like so much humanity on their chest or atop car radio antennas. we keep truth for ourselves but throw out the mystery, the ideals we see we want to see we think we must see in ourselves, but we are no different than the world. we are lost sometimes, a bit turned upside down often enough, rattled, mixed up, shaken, stirred (insert james bond puns here) and that is us and that is the world: shifting eyes and twitching fingers, a mismatched hands held and shouting matches one floor above you (rage like sugar on the lips) and sadness that comes over us like waves, unglentle. tides. the moon. long drives to see old friends and phone calls made in the rain from phone booths (for those without cellular phones). happiness. subtlety. happiness.

freedom is in our closed fists, we try to say but knowing deep down that it exists in open hands, palms up and seeing with soft eyes, appreciation. we are the future of us and we can't seem to separate the mud from the silk.

2004-07-06 | 12:40 p.m.
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