russell-william-johnson

From 20,000 feet, the lines are straight. the world is in neat patterns with the white headlights heading in one direction and the red tail lights, obediently traveling the other dozens of creeks converge and streams merge into the river whose meandering still makes sense and the interstate crosses via white bridges in parallel lines at a point most efficient to their final destination From here, cities make sense too I can spot a school by the football stadium and the streets laid out in a grid with an occasional flourish of gated suburbs the earth is a patchwork a quilt of work and technology where dirt road meets gravel meets asphalt meets concrete all at ninety degree angles mathmeticians must have had this vantage point geometry was made for this relationships weren't relationships are messy and this is orderly I think I like to fly to make the world feel orderly and organized for just a while till I come down and navigate the airport heading for home and living with people

0

Sep 2, 2013

Sep 2, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC

organized chaos

From 20,000 feet, the lines are straight. the world is in neat patterns with the white headlights heading in one direction and the red tail lights, obediently traveling the other dozens of creeks converge and streams merge into the river whose meandering still makes sense and the interstate crosses via white bridges in parallel lines at a point most efficient to their final destination From here, cities make sense too I can spot a school by the football stadium and the streets laid out in a grid with an occasional flourish of gated suburbs the earth is a patchwork a quilt of work and technology where dirt road meets gravel meets asphalt meets concrete all at ninety degree angles mathmeticians must have had this vantage point geometry was made for this relationships weren't relationships are messy and this is orderly I think I like to fly to make the world feel orderly and organized for just a while till I come down and navigate the airport heading for home and living with people

27

the crisp, clean, do-over didn't take long to foul This is not so new after all I'm not much different so why should this be? And the money's already spent So that isn't new either the guilt is familiar, the blame, harsh the fool standing in the corner behind the closet door with the full-length mirror laughing and crying Fresh starts have become stale and pathetic how many of these do I pretend to get anyway? I'm "on to" myself and usually I'm the last to know I guess it came faster this time. the blemishes, weaknesses, the charade Better act quick And find a fresh start.

0

Sep 2, 2013

Sep 2, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC

Fresh Start

the crisp, clean, do-over didn't take long to foul This is not so new after all I'm not much different so why should this be? And the money's already spent So that isn't new either the guilt is familiar, the blame, harsh the fool standing in the corner behind the closet door with the full-length mirror laughing and crying Fresh starts have become stale and pathetic how many of these do I pretend to get anyway? I'm "on to" myself and usually I'm the last to know I guess it came faster this time. the blemishes, weaknesses, the charade Better act quick And find a fresh start.

18

Most moments in our lives pass unnoticed, without remark or consciousness. Then, there are those that mean something, or that we choose to mean something, that become a placeholder for our lives, to add meaning, understanding, passage a demarcation that bestows significance My daughter graduated, under rainy skies and cool breezes. The white tents in the grass flapped empty and lonely like a cancelled wedding We sat in a loud gymnasium rather than in the grass quad surrounded by trees I was there with a thousand other proud parents; I circled her name in the program. I waited for the moment when it was to be called; being slightly afraid I'd miss it And I whistled and yelled, but I don't think quite enough. I didn't seem to mark the moment. It was a moment, and I knew it, expected it, wanted it to be. so badly. Bittersweet. I like that word, it explains life so well. I like the idea of bittersweet and I wanted to have it envelope me that day. I tried to hold on to it. Like a good dream that comes too late in the morning and wont be prolonged quite far enough I wanted to hold on, to understand what it meant. I knew it meant so much, or, at least, I wanted it too. I held on to understand what this meant to her. I held on to remember my own graduation and the dream I then only fainty realized I had just experienced in my four years of college I held on because I know her next steps take her further away. I held on to feel what she felt in the mixture of joy, relief, sadness, confusion; all that goes with parting from friends who alone know the exerience you shared. I held on to make sense of my life. Making sense of moments makes them meaningful. I want life to be meaningful I wish I would have written something that evening. In the full emotion of the day. I thought about it. And now, like that dream, it is fading into morning light. I can't remember all that was, or seemed to be, profound and important as I watched my daughter those two days. I want it to mean something enduring, symbolic and permanent. I want my life to be important, to reflect a famous quote from someone, to be in granite. Not so everyone will know it mattered, just so that I will.

0

Jun 4, 2013

Jun 4, 2013 at 1:50 AM UTC

A Moment

Most moments in our lives pass unnoticed, without remark or consciousness. Then, there are those that mean something, or that we choose to mean something, that become a placeholder for our lives, to add meaning, understanding, passage a demarcation that bestows significance My daughter graduated, under rainy skies and cool breezes. The white tents in the grass flapped empty and lonely like a cancelled wedding We sat in a loud gymnasium rather than in the grass quad surrounded by trees I was there with a thousand other proud parents; I circled her name in the program. I waited for the moment when it was to be called; being slightly afraid I'd miss it And I whistled and yelled, but I don't think quite enough. I didn't seem to mark the moment. It was a moment, and I knew it, expected it, wanted it to be. so badly. Bittersweet. I like that word, it explains life so well. I like the idea of bittersweet and I wanted to have it envelope me that day. I tried to hold on to it. Like a good dream that comes too late in the morning and wont be prolonged quite far enough I wanted to hold on, to understand what it meant. I knew it meant so much, or, at least, I wanted it too. I held on to understand what this meant to her. I held on to remember my own graduation and the dream I then only fainty realized I had just experienced in my four years of college I held on because I know her next steps take her further away. I held on to feel what she felt in the mixture of joy, relief, sadness, confusion; all that goes with parting from friends who alone know the exerience you shared. I held on to make sense of my life. Making sense of moments makes them meaningful. I want life to be meaningful I wish I would have written something that evening. In the full emotion of the day. I thought about it. And now, like that dream, it is fading into morning light. I can't remember all that was, or seemed to be, profound and important as I watched my daughter those two days. I want it to mean something enduring, symbolic and permanent. I want my life to be important, to reflect a famous quote from someone, to be in granite. Not so everyone will know it mattered, just so that I will.

31

I planted flowers Fixed the floor Worked for hours Painted the door Re-grouted the tile Sowed some seeds Rested a while Then pulled the weeds Painted the halls The carpet is new Washed the walls And baseboards too Removed the clutter granite counters were bought Replaced the gutter 'Cause the old ones were shot I stand back and see the results of our work mumbling softly, Gee You're a stupid **** Shiny and new The house is a show Prepared for a view By people we don't know Our home's at it's best And everyone can tell it So now we can rest And the realtor can sell it!

0

May 23, 2013

May 23, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC

Prepared for a View

I planted flowers Fixed the floor Worked for hours Painted the door Re-grouted the tile Sowed some seeds Rested a while Then pulled the weeds Painted the halls The carpet is new Washed the walls And baseboards too Removed the clutter granite counters were bought Replaced the gutter 'Cause the old ones were shot I stand back and see the results of our work mumbling softly, Gee You're a stupid **** Shiny and new The house is a show Prepared for a view By people we don't know Our home's at it's best And everyone can tell it So now we can rest And the realtor can sell it!

28

I cleaned out an old drawer of odds and ends. paperclips and the door to a battery case on some remote an orange candle stub, from Halloween I think batteries and four flashlights, though only one worked and parts of things I'm sure made sense to keep at the time I have no idea what they are now I cleaned out an old drawer of things forgotten my daughter's picture in a setting unknown a letter of gratitude from a friend, for what? a postcard from Barcelona graduation announcements for a friend's child I don't think I sent a gift I cleaned out an old drawer of memories and my past a ticket stub from an evening with Isabel a newspaper clipping of my son in scouts old mother's day cards from the kids New York City subway map from October 2001 Memories of adventure and affection I cleaned out an old drawer and sorted, discarded and remembered batteries went together in a small box old fortune cookie notes in the trash memories dusted off and replaced out of the drawer and back into my heart My life has cabinet drawers stuffed with junk and trash mixed with treasures and tools I think I'll clean my cabinet more often To organize things that I've needed like my mom and dads enduring affection kind and playful friends' Throw away useless things like anger, resentment, and regret to make room for treasures And to be reminded of what has been a real childhood of play and discovery magical children and the wonder of them my beloved's steadfast love and respect I cleaned out an old drawer and found some peace.

0

May 18, 2013

May 18, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC

an old drawer

I cleaned out an old drawer of odds and ends. paperclips and the door to a battery case on some remote an orange candle stub, from Halloween I think batteries and four flashlights, though only one worked and parts of things I'm sure made sense to keep at the time I have no idea what they are now I cleaned out an old drawer of things forgotten my daughter's picture in a setting unknown a letter of gratitude from a friend, for what? a postcard from Barcelona graduation announcements for a friend's child I don't think I sent a gift I cleaned out an old drawer of memories and my past a ticket stub from an evening with Isabel a newspaper clipping of my son in scouts old mother's day cards from the kids New York City subway map from October 2001 Memories of adventure and affection I cleaned out an old drawer and sorted, discarded and remembered batteries went together in a small box old fortune cookie notes in the trash memories dusted off and replaced out of the drawer and back into my heart My life has cabinet drawers stuffed with junk and trash mixed with treasures and tools I think I'll clean my cabinet more often To organize things that I've needed like my mom and dads enduring affection kind and playful friends' Throw away useless things like anger, resentment, and regret to make room for treasures And to be reminded of what has been a real childhood of play and discovery magical children and the wonder of them my beloved's steadfast love and respect I cleaned out an old drawer and found some peace.

42

He undertook Such a jolly folly To search for his heart's twin O'er plain, and peak Never sparing daring Mad quest he did begin He careless spent All his funny money For he spared no expense Heard of a man said to uncover lovers Without a recompense "He's only known as the Giant Bryant" For there were none bigger So off he went For how dare-he tarry With the greatest vigor Within one moon He did righted sighted The giant's stone castle And cautious stepped Midst the towers flowers For he was quite facile With guarded prose Lest he adverse converse Relayed his quest of years And though none be A more mighter blighter Tall Bryant shed six tears "Your search for love" Reflects gallant talent And will surely quench thirst In yonder vale In a deeping sleeping A daughter who's born first A true love's heart And hair flaxen waxen Braids tressed with a blue fleur She longs for love To keep-her deeper Hope steels her to endure It was just so For he found-her sounder In the vale with fields green Her braided hair In breeze saving waving With the suns golden sheen As he held her In their blissing kissing Knew he'd ne'er search again For in her eyes Shown a growing knowing Reflecting his hearts twin

0

May 15, 2013

May 15, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC

His Heart's Twin

He undertook Such a jolly folly To search for his heart's twin O'er plain, and peak Never sparing daring Mad quest he did begin He careless spent All his funny money For he spared no expense Heard of a man said to uncover lovers Without a recompense "He's only known as the Giant Bryant" For there were none bigger So off he went For how dare-he tarry With the greatest vigor Within one moon He did righted sighted The giant's stone castle And cautious stepped Midst the towers flowers For he was quite facile With guarded prose Lest he adverse converse Relayed his quest of years And though none be A more mighter blighter Tall Bryant shed six tears "Your search for love" Reflects gallant talent And will surely quench thirst In yonder vale In a deeping sleeping A daughter who's born first A true love's heart And hair flaxen waxen Braids tressed with a blue fleur She longs for love To keep-her deeper Hope steels her to endure It was just so For he found-her sounder In the vale with fields green Her braided hair In breeze saving waving With the suns golden sheen As he held her In their blissing kissing Knew he'd ne'er search again For in her eyes Shown a growing knowing Reflecting his hearts twin

54

It felt, like a dream remembered, a gift bestowed for no reason, save mine. Conscious discovery yielding an oasis from tempest or doldrum. Without the energy or tension of a search No plan born from need or design No thoughtful execution of a magazine get-away Luxurious coincidence, well cherished Faithful lawn chair positioned for comforted discovery A bath of sunlight and blue, still skies Occupied birds singing faint chorus to joy and spring Not begging for attention or warning, lest they disturb. A cool spot found beneath the sheets by my wandering toes When warmth has stayed too long and threatens to be wearisome Lounging in the arms of my beloved, just longer than expected The sweet kiss of familiar lips full and lingering Chance audience to a little one's discovery When no one is watching, a glimpse the unfolding world of a child Echoing back to wonder and a reminder The observed gait of a cat in open grass Her movement and mechanics newly seen Exquisite design for her own purposes And a glimpse into a world that is not ours Not demanding attention They pale my designs and grand efforts They embarrass the clumsy media With the slow fall of a reddened leaf in autumn Dancing this way and that to find its place on earth Inviting me to see

0

Apr 7, 2013

Apr 7, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC

Well Cherished

It felt, like a dream remembered, a gift bestowed for no reason, save mine. Conscious discovery yielding an oasis from tempest or doldrum. Without the energy or tension of a search No plan born from need or design No thoughtful execution of a magazine get-away Luxurious coincidence, well cherished Faithful lawn chair positioned for comforted discovery A bath of sunlight and blue, still skies Occupied birds singing faint chorus to joy and spring Not begging for attention or warning, lest they disturb. A cool spot found beneath the sheets by my wandering toes When warmth has stayed too long and threatens to be wearisome Lounging in the arms of my beloved, just longer than expected The sweet kiss of familiar lips full and lingering Chance audience to a little one's discovery When no one is watching, a glimpse the unfolding world of a child Echoing back to wonder and a reminder The observed gait of a cat in open grass Her movement and mechanics newly seen Exquisite design for her own purposes And a glimpse into a world that is not ours Not demanding attention They pale my designs and grand efforts They embarrass the clumsy media With the slow fall of a reddened leaf in autumn Dancing this way and that to find its place on earth Inviting me to see

31

The sound of conversation from another room muffled soft by walls and doors. voices of comfort and security, Childhood memories of my mother and father Up late with dear friends as indiscernible words and conversation and laughter became a comforting lullaby For I was down the hall in bed with my cowboy sheets and brown blanket Their voices, a mighty oath of safety and protection against the monsters that hide at night in the closets and dark corners of children's rooms Children who get to make believe their monsters I got to make believe my monsters And they were no match for my fathers laughter or my mothers offer for more coffee. And I think of you out there Who did not make believe your monsters. For whom the voices reaching bedtime ears were coarse and menacing, angry and cursing, And sounds that children should not hear unfamiliar words, but their meaning unmistakable. Mothers crying and fathers yelling, strange men threatening At tender age, the familiar smell of alcohol portending danger You need not make believe your monster For the roaring, and snarling, all too real was just outside your bedroom. having consumed mommy and daddy already, it was coming for you And perhaps, still does

0

Mar 31, 2013

Mar 31, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC

Make believe monsters

The sound of conversation from another room muffled soft by walls and doors. voices of comfort and security, Childhood memories of my mother and father Up late with dear friends as indiscernible words and conversation and laughter became a comforting lullaby For I was down the hall in bed with my cowboy sheets and brown blanket Their voices, a mighty oath of safety and protection against the monsters that hide at night in the closets and dark corners of children's rooms Children who get to make believe their monsters I got to make believe my monsters And they were no match for my fathers laughter or my mothers offer for more coffee. And I think of you out there Who did not make believe your monsters. For whom the voices reaching bedtime ears were coarse and menacing, angry and cursing, And sounds that children should not hear unfamiliar words, but their meaning unmistakable. Mothers crying and fathers yelling, strange men threatening At tender age, the familiar smell of alcohol portending danger You need not make believe your monster For the roaring, and snarling, all too real was just outside your bedroom. having consumed mommy and daddy already, it was coming for you And perhaps, still does

26

"It's going to be snowing" I hate it when your doomsday predictions are right. But now that you are, I wish you were here. And in the dark with a sharp wind I'm blinded and driving home, alone. When I flip on the high beams, it looks like hyperdrive kicked in and we made the jump to light speed. But there is no "we" and I'm alone, going home, at thirty-five Which feels a little risky. If you were here, you.'d tell me to slow down... So annoyingly. But, at least it would be your voice With 20 degrees in my vision field, the world may just as well have evaporated. And driving home without you, it feels like it too. If I was a hound, I'd smell my way through this night. like infrared for my nose. But all I smell is the half eaten banana and the cheap pine car scent hanging from the rear view mirror like its some thing anyone would want to look at Why did you put that there? Why do I make these trips alone, without you? My hands are sweaty. I can tell I'm gripping the wheel too tight. I'm tense and losing perspective of the road, my speed, the snow flakes on the windshield start to command my attention. I'm looking only 18 inches in front of me. I need to relax - pretend like I'm drunk so if I wreck, I may not get hurt as much I wish you were here. Your fear would ground me. Instead, my fear imperils me. We're that way. Better together, in a snowy night, on a lonely road. Heading home. .

0

Mar 22, 2013

Mar 22, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC

Heading Home

"It's going to be snowing" I hate it when your doomsday predictions are right. But now that you are, I wish you were here. And in the dark with a sharp wind I'm blinded and driving home, alone. When I flip on the high beams, it looks like hyperdrive kicked in and we made the jump to light speed. But there is no "we" and I'm alone, going home, at thirty-five Which feels a little risky. If you were here, you.'d tell me to slow down... So annoyingly. But, at least it would be your voice With 20 degrees in my vision field, the world may just as well have evaporated. And driving home without you, it feels like it too. If I was a hound, I'd smell my way through this night. like infrared for my nose. But all I smell is the half eaten banana and the cheap pine car scent hanging from the rear view mirror like its some thing anyone would want to look at Why did you put that there? Why do I make these trips alone, without you? My hands are sweaty. I can tell I'm gripping the wheel too tight. I'm tense and losing perspective of the road, my speed, the snow flakes on the windshield start to command my attention. I'm looking only 18 inches in front of me. I need to relax - pretend like I'm drunk so if I wreck, I may not get hurt as much I wish you were here. Your fear would ground me. Instead, my fear imperils me. We're that way. Better together, in a snowy night, on a lonely road. Heading home. .

29

You save them, And then they save you. Worthy motto not for Puppy Mill Rescue alone. I find, That loves economy is thus: I give more and want for less I forgive more and feel grace I am more vulnerable, and I am stronger I judge less, and I experience more joy I act more upon the needs of others, and dwell less upon my pain I proclaim to know less, and feel wiser Love is not like the mystery of the universe, Though it be as vast and glorious and terrifying, Love is not a parlor trick to be known only by a few. Love is not hard, though our lost and wasted wandering may make it seem so Love is more like Cosette, our rescued puppy of nine years in a cage Who we saved and now, She is saving us..

0

Mar 22, 2013

Mar 22, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC

Cosette

You save them, And then they save you. Worthy motto not for Puppy Mill Rescue alone. I find, That loves economy is thus: I give more and want for less I forgive more and feel grace I am more vulnerable, and I am stronger I judge less, and I experience more joy I act more upon the needs of others, and dwell less upon my pain I proclaim to know less, and feel wiser Love is not like the mystery of the universe, Though it be as vast and glorious and terrifying, Love is not a parlor trick to be known only by a few. Love is not hard, though our lost and wasted wandering may make it seem so Love is more like Cosette, our rescued puppy of nine years in a cage Who we saved and now, She is saving us..

21