Last week a Facebook poet/friend asked for a cure for "writer's block." My remedy is: WRITE . . . just write . . . keep on writing . . . doesn't mater what you write . . . just write." Taking my own advice, I wrote this a couple of nights ago(?) right before I went to sleep. Worked on it today, pretty much all day, and found that . . . well, judge for yourself.
What I Think About Before I Go to Sleep
Turn off the light . . .? Why not turn off the moon, the stars
(if there are actual stars in the dark and not just pinpricks
in a sheet of black, unholy paper—what lies beyond
those pinpricks must give us pause.) . . .? The sun can be
blotted out and may well be someday . . . or
should be some day. . . . according to young Mick. You can
turn out the dog into the backyard to do his . . . unmentionables.
But do not turn out your dog’s insides . . . it would cause him
great discomfort . . . and a big mess on the carpet.
You can turn out to be a good person, a decent enough citizen
of the humane race . . . if there is such a being in existence.
Existence, for instance, exists for a moment,
for a brief moment, some say. But nonexistence is
calculated to be a much longer moment.
and through things like that for I . . . am old.
When I was younger—a half hour or so ago—I had no desire to think,
no need for thinking . . . too busy living my existence
(Ah! That word again!). . . too busy to decide
if I am carrying out my natural exist—Hmmm, carryout.
You can order carryout . . . Chinese, pizza . . .
You can carry out the garbage but you can't carryout the garbage
because "carryout" is NOT a verb! And you don't want to look stupid
by typing "carryout" when you mean "carry out." However, if you feel
a bit naughty, you can say "carryout" when you mean "carry out"
and no one will ever know the difference.
I
think I'll go off to bed—off to bed—off—of
what?
Off my feet, off my chair in front of the
computer . . .? Turn off the light . . .? Why not turn off the moon, the stars
(if there are actual stars in the dark and not just pinpricks
in a sheet of black, unholy paper—what lies beyond
those pinpricks must give us pause.) . . .? The sun can be
blotted out and may well be someday . . . or
should be some day. . . . according to young Mick. You can
turn out the dog into the backyard to do his . . . unmentionables.
But do not turn out your dog’s insides . . . it would cause him
great discomfort . . . and a big mess on the carpet.
You can turn out to be a good person, a decent enough citizen
of the humane race . . . if there is such a being in existence.
Existence, for instance, exists for a moment,
for a brief moment, some say. But nonexistence is
calculated to be a much longer moment.
Nonexistence
n.:
1. a state of being without the
knowledge that one exists.
Impossible,
I'm told, by people who think about such things as that.
But I have time these days . . . time to think
upon, about, aroundand through things like that for I . . . am old.
When I was younger—a half hour or so ago—I had no desire to think,
no need for thinking . . . too busy living my existence
(Ah! That word again!). . . too busy to decide
if I am carrying out my natural exist—Hmmm, carryout.
You can order carryout . . . Chinese, pizza . . .
You can carry out the garbage but you can't carryout the garbage
because "carryout" is NOT a verb! And you don't want to look stupid
by typing "carryout" when you mean "carry out." However, if you feel
a bit naughty, you can say "carryout" when you mean "carry out"
and no one will ever know the difference.
In
closing:
“You
can say what you mean
and
mean what you say—“
unless,
of course, you’re a mime.
Woodie o9-13-15
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