chinese translation #24

facing a very personal universe

in tiny degrees

but also

      realities

original and dry

didn’t know

            how high

or that

imitating others

was in and of itself

the appearance

      of earning a living

and in a time like this

         a time

   unoccupied by giving

people think to be by myself

book-traveling

parting

   hair

      sea

waves

trying to imagine

addictive

is not best

that lisa lisa and the cult jam

would never pass the test

      now

i like to read

            the really big books

but only until

   i get myself took

and i know i’m being taken

can’t do anything about it

can’t live with

      or without it

active   but

very  

      ‘i haven't decided’

about the

ten years future

sloppy and optimistic

in general

the foolhardy and heterogeneous

    the film

black coffee is my every day

   exhibition activates

the lack of sulfates

         like outdoor ever what

ever who

      ever bet

on me and you

   and yet

we keep going

         perhaps living

perhaps knowing

            perhaps  wondering

wandering

      wallowing

in activities

   like   reading

or lying

            in the eyes

a sense of obligation

            like any culture can decide to

be revived

   at night

         to travel

in tail lights

  lions    curtains

      barefoot

            undone

chinese translation #17

did happiness hit you

   on your way to the gate

the large numbered door

which is small

         compared

   to the floor

people are much

      and it will be possible

to hit

   to smile

         wide

for them

            to let you

in

   side

why

      would you want to go

what

      is in there to know

How I learned that help could come from the podium…

Knowing that I am not alone is a comforting feeling. 

The real danger is isolation. 

If you get to the point where you think that all the negative feelings must be carried alone, there is no better antidote than realizing that others will gladly help you carry the burden. 

The help comes in stories, personal stories, really really personal stories. These are shared with you and the open air.   Just said out loud, in front of a gathered crowd who all has little parts of themselves that don’t want to be shown for fear of truth being known, fear of remaining alone.

When the stories are heard, when those ideas find the air.  I realize that the things I have tried to keep from being known, the things that make me feel most alone, are common things. 

Things that people like Maggie Bertram and Jordan Burnham talk about every day. 

And just by the talking, just by taking that leap of help or faith they say directly to me…

Despite a roomful of eager eyes and ears, they say…

To me….

“It’s alright, you’re okay, I’ve been where you are and I know it’s every little bit of ‘so fucking hard’ but let me tell you this; it will get better.  All you have to do is let it.  All you have to do is ask someone to help you, help someone who asks you and be true to your own truth, no matter what ‘they’ say you should do.  Because ‘they’ are feeling a lot of the same things too and ‘they’ want to help, ‘they’ want to help you.  ‘They’ want to feel the same things you aspire to, ‘they’ want to know someone can be true and really mean what is said when it comes to care, ‘they’ want to know that you will be there. 

Now, ‘there’ is a bit of a tricky word, ‘I’ll be there for you’ is so often heard and so often meant (which is really the key) to a life better lived for you and for me.”

This is what I heard, this is what I felt when just two brave souls came to my school, stuck their necks out, and told their truths in such a way that it made what I had to carry a little lighter that day…

And every day since.

for the contrarian

making the whole process

more complicated than it has to be

no-body would disagree

it matters not

how good you are

what good you do

or does it

is the final measure

more than cronbach’s alpha

more than just seeing

if the same answer

can be had again

are any answers

sacred

is any

          thing

   say

      cred

      sake

   read

for goodness sake

       for pete’s sake

my sake

   for me

what about that

years speeding up

only to slow down

in libraries

and on dirt roads

in locker rooms

in your mother’s home

atop her piano

more for holding up

photographs

than stirring chords

or sweet songs

sing along

   sing

alone

none of this

and none of you

see

the sunset

was not meant for you

nor was it meant for

everyone else

stone stuck

staring at it

without the words

to make a stand

only word enough

to meet demands

of consumer culture

that coffee colored vulture

with a shaker to the right

a stolen glockenspiel in the center

                                                          its silver bars glimmering in the middle

   of it all

the glimmer

   is something you hear

and if you hear it well

   you can see it too

you can make it through the

   hoop

through the roof

   even

and if that’s not enough

to get you to stop calling me

      steven

   then i don’t know what else

i can do for you

                         friendo

   defend it

make a case

tell me why

you ended up in this place

and why you feel such a strong want

   to heal the hate

to set it straight

   from out of state

the harm’s long gone

don’t you know that son

don’t you forget what we told

you when we said that

we know what the color yellow

   is

what the color yellow

   was

what the worth of work depends upon

when we sat on the back bumpers of fords

      always more than one

and just wanted to play golf

before we went back to work

before we came home

from the moon

or from utah

where god only knows what happened

and what that meant

the port in the storm

called itself arthur

but you always said

   ‘author’ like it was writing

our story

from the gulf coast

   ankle deep in crude

            strike broke

didn’t seem right to me

at the time

doesn’t seem any more right

now

despite my red subaru

and three green semesters

for the contrarian

the septuagenarian

   who tricked me

every day of the week

 *leaf cutting by Hillary Waters Fayle

http://hillaryfayle.wordpress.com/