guess this mouse has what you americans call post traumatic stress disorder, think of it more like a path for the eyes.
one where eyes are finally forced away from the works of hands by the knock knock knocking on heaven's door, everybody's saying, hodi hapa? something's wrong if no one's answering; tonight.
my neighbor whose name is eej (for real) came to the hut with his friend.
i said do you have siblings he said i did
oh
said i
you are living my worst nightmare one thing about an african
childhood, they say fatalism, you say you would think about death too and who knows
what you'd look like
tonight by the bagel van i said bunkle i gotta problem what's your problem said he well i think i'm not wearing enough colors no said he you're missing a bright splash in the orange red family
who knows what we all look like inside the infinite space of our souls
wonder if blue means purity or green means beauty or red means strength or love or love
well we all look pretty much the same asleep
hatred doesn't look different in one eye or another
but why does it have to be in the eyes of anyone
this mouse has been asking since child hood
why why why.
the cruelty
but yet still and for ever
(you always did care for me yeah you always did share with me yeah)
you always make me laugh, still
the book of jonah makes me think of sea legs and just everything, you know all the palm trees huts, nonvoices of our lives
the blessings rain down an ocean sunsetting on an Ocean sky.
siblings
be strong the good kind of dangerous
is the
fire
mapinduzi
just be around (this is realΒ hope: in the searing agony of human existence, the fire of your love is burning)