May 15, 2001: Visual steps people can’t see

Although it seems my weirdness is an act of artistic courage—I’m extremely fearful of what someone thinks. If the person is being shown the painting loves it more than my imagination—I’ll destroy the creation, for I didn’t believe. It’s impossible for me to trust—radio has taught me to lie to listeners. When I become angry, I fight hard to stay silent—the battle to attain is far worse than the wars I had with Sande to save my children. Silence is what you find on the edge of my lip—for nowhere inside does it grow. What I write today is the path, which enables me to forgive and help heal yesterday. What I see in the mirror is the son of a bitch who’s been treated like dirt to make everyone around him look better. Knelt to the ground—a hidden song is placed next to the face…not a word is spoken nor a wish to share. The vow is to listen—to hear the cardinals, blue jays, black crows and Canadian geese. The circle I’ve knelt within carries with it a presence that can’t be explained. Unwritten music placed next to my face—life is taught to me…one measure at a time.