Monday, May 12, 2008

Decipher This!

I was walking across the campus of Hannibal-LaGrange College with my younger brother, Adam. I had my brand new digital camcorder in hand. I remember that it was sunny and the skies were mostly clear. This description wouldn’t hold true for long. There was a new aircraft landing strip that had been built nearby, so it didn’t seem strange that there were several low-flying prop-jobs in the vicinity. I got the idea to start filming the planes when one began to fly in, dangerously low. People all around were pointing and shouting that the aircraft appeared out of control. I wasn’t sure what to think, but this plane with one red stripe on each side came flying across the campus lawn incredibly low and collided with the giant tree that sits in between the Administration building and the Library. It bounced oddly off the tree’s branches and fell, in a heap, to the ground. By this time I had managed to hit “record” on my camera and was filming the smoldering wreck that used to be the red and white airplane. I scanned the skies to find several other planes. One was barrel-rolling out of control behind the Administration building. I whirled around and began filming as the blue airplane crashed into the parking lot. It was at this point that the sky began to grow dark. My brother and I decided to head for the Admin building when I noticed that the sky began to fill with what looked like little black birds. They all seemed as if they were flying towards us. We entered the building just in the nick of time because, upon turning to look out of the glass door, an immeasurable multitude of tiny, black, bat-like creatures flew into the side of the building and clung as if they were plastered there. More and more, the creatures piled on and the mass of them stretched all the way to Nunn-Cook dormitory. As I filmed the fantastic chaos, I noticed that my batteries were running out. I quickly looked around to see if there was anywhere I could procure a new battery. A few looks revealed to me a large Duracell stand with every kind of battery imaginable, plus a few I’ve never imagined. It was a good thing too, because upon opening the battery hatch on the camera, I discovered that this camera took multiple kinds of batteries, positioned in complex patterns and fitting together. Randy Shepard was nearby and granted me emergency permission to pilfer the battery rack of everything I needed. I sat down at a dining table and began to meticulously work at replacing the dying batteries. I first removed the old batteries, which were green and white and wrapped in some sort of queer cellophane. My goal was to do it one type at a time and replace the old with the new black and copper colored Duracells. As I worked at it, however, the process began to get more and more complicated. I was sweating at the brow and growing progressively more frustrated. At one point I removed all of the new batteries, attempting to start over. There were long and narrow batteries. There were short and fat batteries. There were even cubic and triangular batteries. In the midst of my struggle, I looked down to find that all of my batteries were of the same green and white color scheme. There was no way to tell the difference between used and new batteries among the cluttered pile. By this time, my brother had left to go find food. In the confusion of the moment, I blacked out.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Jigsaw

This creaky old wooden house
This run down old porch
This rickety deck
An ancient cast-iron stove sits firmly upon it
Covered in dust
A dermis of dust which lays over it evenly
A spewing of soot which cascades downward from the mouth of this iron beast
This cavernous maw which leads to a belly of blackness
A cauldron of cold coal that once burned brightly

The stepping of shoes rhythmically echoes eternal energy into the opening
The stove sits, door open and gaping
Seemingly leaning toward its fore
Hinting hunger and petrified anguish
Back into the black, a lone stone is waiting
A glimmering crag with not one ray of light to reflect
It once shone brightly by the frightening fire within the belly
Now stillness is its beauty

This still scene of solitude
This exiled conglomeration of matter
This lone puzzle piece of existence
Is it dead or waiting?
Is it alive or patient?
The warping wooden structure bends around it
Framing its state, however defined
This stove, its contents, its immediate surroundings
All at rest and seemingly static
Though change creeps and distorts
And elements simplify
Structures degrade
This portrait is alive

No doubt, an onlooker would relate neglect
But time neglects nothing and aging is action
The sky above is empty all the way
But birds fly through it

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Dream Girl

She was attractive for sure. More importantly, she was sarcastic, intelligent, and sure of herself. I only talked to her for a few minutes and found out that she loved movies and hip-hop. I woke up shortly after with those few details.

Smiling, I rolled over and thought to myself. I get to live her every day.