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I spilled all this ink on this page and it’s a poem now, I know it’s such a mess. It means something to me that you know that it was no accident that the words fell out of my mouth the way they did - like you couldn’t have planned it the way they moved so rhythmically - back and forth, iambic, and weak then strong, five feet, stepping one after the other, dancing freely over the blank versed black puddle that assembled itself into the garden of adjectives I hung on the pronouns of you of whom I want to take by blessed hands and do every good action in all the sweet ways of living.

Oh, darling I spilled all this ink and I don’t think I’ll clean it up. Let these words stain the floor of the ship that is our relation. Let us feel these words carved deep and into the wood beneath the soles of our feet. Oh, darling may I trek the words I spilled about you - everywhere, leaving an indelible trail of who you are to me that marks the path I walk for as long as I tread this earth.

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Advice To Younger Me | #2

I found myself writing again, jumping back and forth around the exact timeline in which these events have occurred. I suppose it reflects real life. Memories come on their own time, you can’t force them.

Advice To Younger Me | #2

11. Singing is cool and fun. It’s okay to do it - even in front of your friends. It won’t make you any less of a young man. Don’t wait until you’re 16 to start. The girls are into it.

12. Read more. The notion that books are long is not true. Right now you have all the time in the world to master whatever you like. Become a well read individual, you’ll like it. Hemingway is great. Wish I’d known about him earlier. You’re welcome.

13. You don’t have bills right now. I say again, read more books.

14. The fact that you have what can only questionably be called a “relationship” with that pretty girl in the other 6th grade class should not deter you from the fact that it’s really not nice to kiss a girl other than the one you’re “dating” even if you are only 11. This type of stuff will come up many times in your life. Avoid it now. The songs aren’t worth it.

15. Kenny didn’t deserve you getting so angry at him during the great neighborhood guava war of 1999 where you banned him from ever coming to your culdesac again. Forgive quickly. You guys didn’t have to wait until 18 to make amends.

16. Keep riding your bicycle everywhere. It’s good for you. Also, jump on the trampoline all the time and do crazy stuff on it. You’re young, your bones will heal.

17. That whole being the first guy to walk across the dance floor and ask Tiana to look foolish with you to Smash Mouth at the Valentines Day Dance in 6th grade was badass. Do that again.

18. Ask your dad to let you play soccer earlier than 5th grade. You’re not bad at it. Lightning will become one of your favorite nicknames. They’ll stop using it when you quit.

19. Someone is going to win at the 5th and 6th science fairs. You’re more than capable. Do it.

20. Ask your dad to tell you more stories. His memory is still good. 

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Recovery: A Short Story by Two Cousins

My cousin Dina visited my brother Cabell and I in Boston for Thanksgiving this week. It was wonderful having her over. She looks so much like our mom, her being with us was like homesick medication. Before taking her to the airport this morning we stopped into Thinking Cup on the Boston Common for a quick couple cups of coffee. Whilst sipping away Dina and I played a literary game of air hockey with my phone and wrote this short story.

Me: The sun rose

Dina: A girl woke up

M: To music from Chopin on the radio

D: The coffee in the table was hot

M: And her windows were open

D: She likes the mornings but not this morning

M: But the sound of the ocean floating in on a cool breeze eases her mind

D: And Remains her home , but this wasn't her home

M: And then, the accident

D: The car , the crash and the silence

M: The pain in her legs every morning

D: And scars in her heart, still bleeding

M: Knowing that he is no longer there

D: And she will never see him again

M: : There is a knock at the door

D: She don't want to answer

M: Knock, knock, knock, knock

D: Who is this? And what they want? She wondered

M: A voice through the window "It's your mother, I know you're home"

D: The sound of her voice makes her relax and think that everything will be ok ... Someday

M: The End.

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Direction.

Certain things God makes blatantly obvious: Things equivalent to being placed in an empty room with one large canvas, brushes, paints, and ample time. In the face of some situations in life where our overarching trajectories lead toward undeniable places ‘What to do?’ becomes a foolish question.

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For Storytellers:

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.

One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.

His bed was next to the room’s only window.

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end.

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation..

Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he c ould see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. 

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake

Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. 

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man could not hear the band - he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days, weeks and months passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.

She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.

He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides the bed.

It faced a blank wall..

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. 

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

* Author: Unknown * Sometimes this is how I feel about songwriting.