Week 31 – Coast #2

I am the Boom

“The coast is clear,” they said over the headset.

I had positioned myself for the best opportunity, and it was time.

There was no sound, except for the beating of my heart.

A bead of sweat ran down the tip of my nose.

I inhaled deeply. And let the breath slowly out.

The tension in the air was thick.

Smoke and flashing red lights threw the scene into deeper chaos.

“Just like we planned it,” I said to myself as I counted down – the target was just beyond my line of vision.


I was reminded of the “Space Oddity” countdown, engines on…

The platform rumbled beneath my feet, and I tried to focus my gaze.

“Target at 50 yards,” they assured me.

“It’s go time,” I muttered under my breath.

My stone. Cold. Breath.

There was a flash and more smoke.

Next thing I knew, I was flying.

Ass over tea kettle, I believe they call it.

There was still no sound.

I caught a glimpse of God smiling at me.

There was my mark –

A net to catch me and hug me in its grasp.

Air! Oh! I had forgotten to breathe!

But does a human cannonball really, truly need to breathe?

Week 31 – Coast #1

For Now and Forever

Beside the fire, we warm ourselves,

Listening to the calming waves of the ocean.

We say nothing for extended periods of time,

Silence sketching memories for the future.

I remember the first time we did this…

When we left the city for the coast,

We only left the bedroom to walk the shops, to have a meal, to grab more wine.

Time was endless then, and we didn’t truly appreciate what we had.

But we’ve learned. Boy, we’ve learned!

And so it’s now, that we don’t have to say anything…

A fleeting touch is endless,

A look, a smile, a kiss says everything.

I love you, and I love it here.

For now and forever.

Week 30 – Destroy #2


The New Morning

The pre-dawn moon bounces on the ripples of the lake.

The fish are awake, rubbing their open eyes and stretching their gills.

The morning silence is music to my ears, and I hold my breath to make sure it doesn’t taint the exquisite lack of sound.

Looking straight up, I can see the line of deep, dark night and lazy morning blue.

I can feel the humidity in my hair and on my skin.

My senses absorb the calm until I am.

I hear a bird chirp from across the water.

And another responds.

The lazy morning blue sky has taken on a tint of orange.

And here it is – the dawn of a new day

Has defeated the nighttime once again –

The calm destroyed by activity,

The silence, by noise.

Good morning.

Week 30 – Destroy #1


I awoke in a foul mood.

Maybe I had had a bad dream, or maybe I was still pissed from the night before.

Either way, I had it in my mind that I needed to trash something – to completely and utterly destroy something.

So I grabbed the baseball bat that I kept behind the bedroom door, and walked into the basement.

I collected a few participation trophies I’d “earned” as a kid, and walked out to the backyard, lining them atop the fence.

And I swung that bat like Miguel Cabrera.

I kept swinging and swinging until there was nothing left but glitter on the ground.

The sun peeked around the corner, and cascades of plastic gold winked at me.

The anger out of my system, I smiled.

It was a lovely day.

Week 29 – Fidelity #2

Empty Halls of Squeaky Shoes

The silence was deafening as I meandered through the modern art exhibit.

My tennis shoes thudded and squeaked as I moved from installation to installation.

The Fluxus was my favorite, and sadly, they had dismantled it.

I heard giggling around the corner, and thought I recognized the sound.

Wishing I’d had one of those childhood periscopes so I could see around corners, I slowly peered into the other room.

Sure enough, it was my ex.

She never liked art. She never understood modern art.

Until I took her downtown and we got stoned. We ended up at the “dirty art” exhibit, and the rest of the night was magical.

From that point on, she was hooked. She never realized that Yoko Ono was an artist before she met John Lennon. She never understood performance art.

But her appetite had been whetted. Her urges went beyond boundaries.

Fidelity was something she no longer took seriously. So I left her at a Marina Abramovic exhibit.

I packed my stuff and moved out – I never saw her again.

To forget her, I moved to New Orleans, and created paintings near Jackson Square.

I spent a month in New York, installing an exhibit at MoMA.

And I traveled around to different Wilco concerts, laying some roots in Nashville.

And here. Visiting the Detroit Institute of Arts for the first time in 10 years.

Here she is. With her wife. Stoned and giggling at the giant electrical plug, hanging from the ceiling.

I turned, looking at the empty Fluxus spot. There was a sign on the floor.

“Don’t Look Here,” it said. “These words are written in Swahili.”

There was a picture of an old telephone, and a head of lettuce.

“Pick one or go home,” it said.

I left that night out of DTW, back to home – Nashville.

Week 29 – Fidelity #1


The telephone rang, screaming the lyrics to some Linkin Park song.

I screeched to a stop halfway through my bowling approach.

“Sonuva -…” I thought – aloud.

It was my roommate  – pickled again.

I was happy he was at home, because otherwise, I might have tried to fit my bowling ball down his throat.

“Dude!” he said, slurring like a dog that licked a toad. “Where the fug are you?”

His voice, when he’s drunk, is the same tone as a cat in heat.

“What do you want?” I asked. Pissed.

“I need you to pick me up. Stereo Weedwagon is playing at Hi Fidelity!”

“I’ll be right there!” I said, and hung up.

I turned off the phone, put it in my bowling bag, and went back to the thing I loved most – chucking a ball down the lane, crushing pins.

When our league was over, the female midnight league started.

I sat watching the girls get drunk, ordering them wine after wine.

If I was going to miss Stereo Weedwagon, I was at least going to get lucky!

Week 28 – Event #2


I straightened my tie

Shot my cuffs

Polished my shoes and tidied my kerchief.

Outside, the air was electric

People mulled about, and I repeated my mantra to myself:

Thank you for the appreciation, thank you for the appreciation, thank you…

I put my hands on my hips in my power pose and laughed into the mirror.

It was all so ridiculous.

Las Vegas, a wedding, and people pretending to be someone else.

It was the perfect event to ditch and get drunk instead.

Week 28 – Event #1


I have this dream where every day runs into the next and I never seem to get any sleep It’s like on TV and the movies when no one ever has to go to the bathroom, except it’s different

Instead of sleeping in my dream, every time I take a shower, a new day begins It’s really weird and I can’t seem to stop it Every time I step out of the shower, I’m older Hmmmm

I tried to take a nap, but ended up eating instead So every time I feel tired during the day I eat That part is like my real life, except it’s different, too

Each and every event Every and any thing Any and every one is like a long long long run on sentence that just never dies Except it’s different