Tucked in and Tamed

I’m inside here…somewhere. My stream of consciousness is as deep as the eyes of God and as shallow as the peppery dust on a city sidewalk.



I study the things that move around me; big things and pointy things; things which are totally out of my control. Some drop downwards like the guilty eyes of Judas, and fly upwards like the surprised soul of the newly dead.



Other things rise faithfully, like the sun on a wintry morning; all silvery white with promise, yet without enough heat to thaw fear’s frozen grip from my pale throat.



And then there are other things that randomly appear, a rainbow on the tail end of a storm, a glad omen, dressed in candy stripes, like a parade flag heralding happiness. I like these the best. Happy rabbit trails with tea parties and grinning kittens.



I keep myself inside myself, tucked in and tamed. I dream from this place and hunt and love. My body obeys my commands, a nod of assurance to move forward and take the risk, or to draw back and RUN! Sometimes I dare myself to dance like a sweaty harlot or prompt myself to pray like Mother Theresa with her bony hands tangled into a holy knot.



I wonder at all of it, the thoughts, the emotions, the dreams, and drawbacks. I wonder at my choices; for I’m not exempt from surprising myself, disappointing myself, and scaring the shit out of myself.



The day is long with ruminations and labor, the night with its epiphanies and nightmares. Who can say what a thought amounts to, or how far a word can go…and this body!




My consciousness is wavy, like the heat that rises at high noon from a tire-flattened carcass in Death Valley, and its content is invisible to all. I speak therefore I hide. I hide therefore I speak. I am not my mind. I am not my words. I am not my body. I am.