chinese translation #33

the powder is a good thing

      it’s not written for long

and time is the character-builder

   even if things get ugly

we all know that the ghost builds a wall

from north to south

from both sides of her mouth

     but a man who is amiable   sincere and unshakeable

isn’t   necessarily

             comprehensively faithful

or even able

   to escape the unstable

smiling and nodding but

         starting to waver

it is not noble

      to cut

            you cut

   through-cut

do it how you like

to get things done

   to make the most of the sun

to have a desire to communicate

the companionship

         share both the good

and the well-fed

the quick

           and the instead

   a desire

for death and

   formality

         but not only in education

   also in

libation

   and pro   cras   tination

look to the full moon

   through georgia fog

through decatur night

      if the timing is right

look for the water

      watch it rise

heart

    to the

beat

      shuffle your slow feet

face the smile

that is looking at you

      it’s all that you have to do

you never know who is looking

                                                     at you

prayers   wait for answers

color   is beautiful

the wish waits for a coin

at the bottom   of the well

      but it is still 

   too soon 

to tell

i didn't love because it didn't love

we hardly even knew each other

and that was the glue

      stuck us together

kept us on the ground

while the peaches are in season

the trees just in reach

there’s little left to do

            but teach

i won’t let anyone hurt the pearl

the laudanum

      the mild form of the wild world

none of us

and none of this

      will make amends

let’s not be friends

   let’s not be trite

did you hear the truth song

                                the one by the giant

   ninety three

the more fool   i

it’s an estimate

            of what it’ll be

what you’ll see

in the land of cotton

where old times are

      all but forgotten

palm trees and sunshine

the basis of every story

from the gulf

      but smaller   seven

left to fend for himself

the aristocrat

            the girl

it’s easy to tell the stories

if you don’t let the truth

get in the way

make it a blue dress

make it so there’s

no need to confess

so there’s nothing to regret

      on the shore

in eighty four

      at seventeen

said i didn’t love

because it didn’t love

   in the art class

elaine floyd

   said

what

      said

   how

she was a hippie then

but she’s

      a hypocrite

now

the agreement the final word

sitting in the ruins

out of water

saw the white door many times

there is always much to spend

with pictures across eyes

realized

when parting

   just around the corner

we shared so many good times that

            we had to

thank god for allowing us to meet

we should treasure every encounter

maybe that is part of significance

maybe that is part   of 
days   of 
     mind

the agreement

      the final word

because

      at this moment

it is only

to feel the   

well  

   their

elders

full of sorrow

like grateful trees

a park of need

thank you for the better

from the same factory

      victory

because the feast was all good but

when her tears today

ended up on

      your face

         it looked like

two brothers and a sister

in the same boat

   wearing navy blue coats

singing songs

      writing poems

all the way home

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.

i will tell you right now

dark haired curls will change your plans

they’ll take the money from your hands

turn faded denim to matisse

soft and features      never close enough      to me

the dark haired curls will make you write songs

then turn tararesey   it won’t take too long

whisper in your right ear all the reasons to be wrong

over easy  like eggs

                                               back where i come from

                  they don’t get to decide

                                             but take them out at night

                  let them see moon light

                                    let them smoke  just out side

they’ll rush into rights

they will swear to  their fathers that they never got high

                                   they’ll meet you at school    dance like it’s a

                                                                        fight

and retract with a kiss

that is later denied

they will try they will try they will try they will try

holes full of matrimony in those vacant lots

                        summer sots      workingwood fools

running from money truth and school

then call drunk to say what’s missing

            is  you

leave you wondering what it is that you     

                                             do                          with

                                                     that triple truth

                                           faded youth

                     times (x) trouble

and

dirty         boots

                                                  crawling over        dollar bins 

kissing pictures                art on mend

      the only thing you can do

                         is make your promise that when it comes

                                   you’ll bite your lip before seeking  sun

                           and tell the truth

no    matter     what

morning doesn't seem as bright as it was adverstised

kevin is

              completely without morals       at least

that is what’s been said

                           by a

certain one who knows          simply

someone that i met

              brothered     to the teeth            not even         room to move

mostly         accurate at least                  if not            thoroughly the truth

the truce

a surprise                         is not in order         i have                 all of it                                              

               written down

i should ask          the court reporter          to pass   the word          around

buried     closer to the sand    is all           the wasted time

            still    it slips right through my hands      still

                                                    refuses to be mine

morning    doesn’t seem as bright  as it   was advertised

no special      thing about this light  and now     there’s     

                                                      nothing left to hide