WORDS THAT GET CAUGHT IN THE WIG.

2009-06-12T10:44:00Z

It's unimaginable that I could let months pass and live more on Face Book than in my own personal room

in cyberspace. Addiction comes so easy. i think I might as well just lay the lap top screen on my veins and

hit send.

yes, words do get caught in the metaphoric wig and wander within the curls and scalp never to reach brain

matter and the possibility of sentences and structured stories .... lost.

My Bingo Mystery is unfolding.. mostly under the wig, and the reward for hours and days and months of

writing will come. I'm sure of it. It don't happen unless it gets written

The-Cutiest-Salon-in the ENTIRE-Universe, Be Hair Now, is thriving. I get to engage with the wonders of you

and being downtown where the action and the vibrance of story land lives. Not that stories aren't ever present

on any main street in any town, anywhere.

You know how you love to chat with your hairdresser/artist/healer??? We do know for sure. What exactly is

for sure is caught in another curl.

I went to a poetry/fiction event last night. It is always wonderful to be in the presences of other writers and the

sharing of work that happens. Even when I have no idea what there work is about and can feel like 'what the

hell did I just miss'? I still feel the importance as a writer to pay attention to all of it. There was one indulgent

writer who took up lots of time and space and I did sigh loudly from boredom. He was hungry to be heard and

here was venue of polite people sitting and being incredibly patient with him. I guess I'd want their patience's to

only I'd hope to be off the stage before it got to that. I did read a poem... and.. here it is...

till latter.. gator

Feeding the Angel of Death

The sticky past clings to

your daily tasks.

Holds you accountable:

To days gone by

Moments gone by

You are supplied with

History's lies…

The angel of death eats your yesterdays.

Be Here Now.

The wishful future

has yet to be.

You give possibilities

To your dreams.

To hopes, To prayers,

You give it away

before it arrives

it is packaged in yesterday’s.

The angel of death ate yesterday.

Now Is All There Is

The past meets the future,

bound tight at their seam.

where is the space called

Now to breathe?

Suffocated in the in between.

Is this the Dream?

Deaths belly is never full.

Better Now than never.

If Now is to be, can you let go

of the story your past clings to

to torture your soul?

You fling your past beyond

your Now.

To be held in the arms

of a future that

somehow

You imagine,

You believed,

You were told it is so…

Already swallowed by death’s Angel moments ago.

Gone is yesterday

Tomorrow will wait

This moment is yours

Your Angel just ate.

jeanne adwani

WIG OUT

WORDS THAT GET CAUGHT IN THE WIG.