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I saw the clock... 2:30... 4:00... light outside around 6:something. My eyes burned as I let Henry and Éclair out to potty. My muscles ached as I bent down to scoop some food for the little furry people. The day has been a blur. I can't tell if it has been due to being extremely busy or because I can't register what is going on due to the haze enveloping my brain.

from the way-back machine revisited - Halifax, Nova Scotia

I was thinking this morning - out of the blue - about a poem I used to perform at a since-closed poetry joint down near the Montrose. "Seekin' the Cause" by Miguel Piñero. I remember the first time I saw it performed, I was enamored with the rhythm of the delivery. The message is dark, but strong... powerful. It took me a couple of days to memorize and weeks to get the delivery down. I used to write a lot of poetry. I feel I've lost that part of myself sometimes. Here is some skinny from his wiki: "Miguel Piñero (December 19, 1946 – June 18, 1988) was a Puerto Rican playwright, actor, and co-founder of the Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Piñero was born in Gurabo, Puerto Rico, and when he was four, immigrated with his parents to New York. Before Piñero had reached his 20 birthday, he was a drug addict with a long criminal record. In 1972, when Piñero was 25 years old, he was incarcerated in Sing Sing prison for second-degree armed robbery. While serving time in prison, he wrote the play Short Eyes as part of the inmates playwriting workshop. The play is a drama based on his experiences in prison and portrays life, love and death among prison inmates. In 1974, the play was presented at Riverside Church in Manhattan. Theater impresario Joseph Papp saw the play and was so impressed that he moved the production to Broadway. The play was nominated for six Tony Awards. Once out of prison, Piñero continued to write and he also landed some small film roles. In the 1970s, Piñero co-founded the Nuyorican ("New York-Puerto Rican") Poets Cafe with a group of artists, one of which, Miguel Algarín, would become one of his best friends. The Cafe is a place for performance of poetry about the experience of being a Puerto Rican in New York. Piñero died on June 16, 1988 in New York City from cirrhosis and his ashes were scattered across the Lower East Side of Manhattan." Influenced by "Seekin' the Cause", I penned this one night in a similar style, but with fewer pause and more continuity... to be read in a pattern of emphasis without significant (read: noticeable) stop. Imagine crossing beat poetry with playing a didgeridoo. Cyclical.

"Miguel"
through eyes that swell and tear and leak emotion like that moment that slipped through your fingers and is watched in your minds eye at night like a bad rerun of another life in another place that takes shape and forms a step shy of grace is the moment when I exhale thick smoke that sticks to my cheek and mixes with trails of my pain and my joy to form a layer of grime like a crime I should be committing to find peace for a moment and remember those that should not be forgotten and it is these fragile times of my life when pain and pleasure share in each other the void that is created by the loss of self through eyes that swell and tear and leak emotion

from the way-back machine revisited - Manhattan, NY

I have an old Philippine cigar box I got from my grandfather years ago that is brimming with old 35mm negatives. Most of them are crap, but there may be nuggets of my past in there worth remembering. I have years of life on the ocean in cheaply developed prints loosely organized with little negative slip cases - some bent - representing irreplaceable memories from years past. My head swims when I try to put my mind around it, but good or bad, I'm thankful for each of those memories. They are the very bits of things that make up the me of today. Did you ever see that movie "Sliding Doors" about a woman whose life is completely and forever changed by something as simple as whether or not she makes it through a sliding door at the beginning of the film? What if our lives were really that fragile? What if the smallest decision in any moment could alter our future on such a grand scale? Who would choose wisely and who would leave it to fate? It's a good coffee table conversation.