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cocoy3
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Name: 'Coy
Country: United States
State: New York
Birthday: 5/2/1980
Gender: Male
Interests: Turning the fecal to gold and vice versa, mispeling wordz, and bowling with coconuts and glass pins on very very slippery wooden planks in outerspace.
Expertise: electronic quills and thought bubbles, majong.
Occupation: Manufacturing/production
Industry: Media
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
6/17/2003
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| The MarkA subtle blemish at the base of the hand
No memory of its beginning--
Against the edge of an iron spike
Or the tips of bristly thorns.
I am reminded of its lightness
When I yield a fork, scoop soup with a spoon
Or pick pea shoots with a chop stick
Of whittled wood or pounded steel.
I'm not sure if it was ever painful
Or if it bled through many cloths.
It may have clotted into a darkened scar
Or the sickly yellow, that wounds sometimes get.
Against the grain of my winding prints--
They are also everlasting paths--
It traces my plodding days like a hash mark,
A little fissure for my eye.
The mysteries of its pointing,
Forward, down or left
Will stay as flying flesh flakes away
Into the moments hush. | | |
| A gravedigger observed two men arguing in a grave yet filled.
“How do I know you’re not the devil?”
“You don’t, but I’m just telling you to lie down and sleep. That’s all it is, a long sleep.”
“I’d rather not.”
“If I were the devil, wouldn’t I rather you roam around causing havoc for the living?”
“Good point.”
As the hesitant man crawled into the grave, the other man raised his arms to the sky. The pile of dirt by the grave rose into the air; the mysterious man then lowered his arms slowly and lay the dirt down onto the hesitant man like a sheet onto a sleeping child. The mysterious man wiped his hands against each other then walked away from the grave. The gravedigger approached him and said,
“Convinced another one eh?”
“Yep, hopefully he’ll decay a bit then dig his way out and scare the shit out of some people. It’ll be a riot.”
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| The grass held many souls in its roots and when it grew too long to satisfy human eyes, would be cut and feed the roots again. There was a child named Jacob that saw the souls falling back into the earth, imprisoned in that chlorophyll infused place and he thought it might be hell. He watched this cycle day after day as his caretaker, Uma pushed him briskly through the park with his stroller. Uma had been a maid and clothes washer for a wealthy family in Haiti before coming to America, so was very in shape for a 50 year old woman and didn't mind the strolls in the park. Sometimes at nighttime as Uma put Jacob to bed, he often thought a ghost undressed him and tucked him into the warm, silent darkness, a ghost with gentle hands and a cooing voice. In the day, Uma was like a shadow, towering in front and behind the stroller, a kind of guardian angel in jeans and a patterned shirt but with no wings.
Halfway through their daily walk in the park, Uma and Jacob would sit and rest in the grand field at the center of the park, where according to Uma many souls waited patiently to be reborn. And though Jacob frowned inside as they sat in the grass, he smiled outwardly as if by reflex because the sun heated his face. It would not be until he visited distant relatives in the country and saw cows and goats chomping on the grass, and had a great banquet where he ate those same cows and goats and drank their milk and ate their cheese that Jacob's mind changed about the whole matter of grass and souls. Between bites of a cheeseburger, while sipping on frost bitten milk, Jacob turned his face up to Uma, and spoke in a low tone while his legs swung back and forth under bench of the picnic table:
"Some souls get to travel afterall..."
Uma patted his head and both she and Jacob continued eating. As grasshoppers and dragonflies flew overhead in a warm summer buzz, Jacob looked upon his older sister Sarah, who had just turned fifteen the weekend before. She sat with her arms crossed in the shade by herself and was the only one that did not partake of the feast because for her, hell was being eaten against your will in your own milk and juices. For a moment, Jacob tried to understand his sister's perspective but in time forgot the matter because the burger in his hands was so good.
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| My life has moved away from untenable dreams to those my hands can grasp...but in the process, I've lost touch with certain sides of me I thought would never fade...It's not sad, just surprising. Perhaps I'll return in time.. | | |
| Autumn Tale
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0137439/?fr=c2l0ZT1kZnx0dD0xfGZiPXV8cG49MHxrdz0xfHE9YXV0dW1uIHRhbGV8ZnQ9MXxteD0yMHxsbT01MDB8Y289MXxodG1sPTF8bm09MQ__;fc=1;ft=21;fm=1 | | |
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