Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Plans...

The air is crisp like the breeze off of ice capped seas, a woman next door raises her voice, and the birds nest higher. Blades of grass hold the waters' weight, and the dirt is darker than yesterday. I need you more than 4 days a week, when convenience is not an issue. When the rains fall, I know you enjoy this weather, and you know I do too. Your skin, smooth like the porcelain in my Mothers cupboard. You are a living doll, in the winter, in a grey coat. You are everything I say, and everything you don't think you are.
"Tell your Father that, that you're mine, and I swear we'll run away".. I will take you to the docks, I will take you to the runway, I will take you to the station, I will take you...
I will leave education to the ones who dream of Harvard and Oxford.
I will leave art to the snobs that pointlessly critique work that is unique in every stroke, like the artists fingerprint, trying to explain expression, trying to judge the inexplainable.
I will leave music for the ones that only think of money and sales.
I will leave where you know I am so that you won't.
I will labour on farms. I will fall in mud. I will have leather hands, I will have no finger prints. I will hitch hike, I will travel. I will drink, I will talk and I will walk. I will smoke a pipe. I will not have a bank account. I will work for food. I will wear worn sole-less leather boots. I will sleep on a mattress on a floor in a bare room. I will chop wood with a blunt axe. I will live where business men can't find me. I will live where men of God can't find me. I will live where isolation can.
I will live where there are no taxes. I will live where there is no Government in reach of me. I will live where there is no tv. I will live where there is no news. I will not have a woman. I will not have children. I will have no connection to anything connectable.
I will not dream but I will sleep. I will stoke fires. I will be a ghost in the towns I pass, and I will be a ghost in the ghost town of my mind...
Here is where you will find me.
I will disappear in another country, in different clothes, in different shoes, with different people, among interesting faces, and different trees. I will live where the mountains meet the sea. And where the leaves are just as beautiful detached from trees.
I will not have a grave, I will not have a stone. Because no one will know, where I lived and died alone.

No comments:

Post a Comment