Songbird

And the songbirds keep singing like they know the score, and I love you, I love you, I love you.. like never before.

That Rumours album had it down pat.
My room is quiet apart from the too loud tapping of my keyboard and the rumble of my Compaq's gears. My house is quiet apart from the flipping of light switches and the rustle of bed covers. I wish there was a way that I could emphasise the stillness of everything in this room.

I wish there was a way to convey the longing that I have for closing my eyes and having no weight on my shoulders. Nothing to tense my stomach, or read in the closed darkness after it's imprinted its image deeply in my eyes. Nothing to dream about, nothing to write about, nothing at all to even think.

Today, when I was reading there was a poem that really struck me.

written in pencil in the sealed railway car

here in this carload
i am eve
with abel my son
if you see my older son
cain son of adam
tell him that i


the final, unfinished sentence. the hanging ambiguity. it's sad. solemn. truthful. and the depth of the biblical allusion creates a whole new level of connection. to me, i feel connected with an awkward side. i feel that i have no right to feel connected. an Aryan refusal; a slight lapse toward guilt.

currently i am filled.
and so is my subconscious.