Uisge-beatha
Pay the storms
and the snow outside
no mind.
Let it be aflame
on your breath.
Let it burn.
Let it smolder, sterilize.
Antiseptic on your tongue.
Reach out to pour
caramel and chocolate
on charred oak.
or douse a burning tire
with vanilla.
Pour it together and
spread the feeling.
Or alone
if you’d rather,
in your armchair
by the window
or the hearth
where the heat
of the peat fire
warms your roots
and reminds you of home.
-Max
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Go with the music
Why do so many of the songs I love start with “Last Night”?
As if I were mired in the past or trying desperately
to HOLD ON to the watercolor
details of 12 hours ago.
“Last night she said…”
“Last night I dreamt…”
“Last night, again…”
Then again, the song does change. Like leaves change with autumn’s turn
or a wrong turn down the wrong alley where a man looms in the shadows.
Some spooky Nosferatu-looking motherfucker.
And again we move. We walk it out. And it just happens that the wind
brushes lightly on my face and a tear falls though I’m not sad. Not in the
slightest. But in some way the tear feels right so I pay it no mind and it
rolls down my face, a harp’s thrumming pop and torque leading its
descent, feeling right the whole way down.
-Max
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Objectives:
Look to see how you will help one another.
Be a reason for conflict.
Redeem yourself if you must.
Observe the ways you withstand work.
Decide on the next frame of art to channel and repeat.
Compose a verse in your head and I’ll read it back to you.
Please remember,
I will.
-Max
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