De Fence Less

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One of my strengths, and perhaps my greatest weakness, is my ability to understand different points of view… I am good at relating, but sometimes it leads to what might be called analysis paralysis. At this time in our country, I wish there were many many more with my weakness. I see a land of fences. I see a people with entrenched thoughts living in echo chambers. The desire to point out fallibility and weakness is easy and is quickly rewarded by a chorus of cheers from those that share the same space, while creating distance and anger among those it attacks. I fear the chance at common ground is no longer possible. It scares me to see that some seem to have come to the pre-conclusion that there will be no common ground. But, I do hope compassion, understanding and a sense of humanity will prevail.

I am not looking for an echo chamber of agreement. I suppose I am really looking for the opposite… fewer echos of sentiment, more actual love.

Favorite Moment a Day

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I was given a journal for Christmas… It’s called favorite moment a day.

I like the idea of focusing on something positive every day. I think that’s a worth while thing to do.

Picking favorites is never something I’ve done or enjoyed doing. Favorite color? I say “green” because I don’t want to be bugged. Favorite food? Usually I say “pizza”, just because. I just don’t really do favorites, but I suppose I could just pick out an event I like each day… preferably one that is easy to write about… and write about it. That would be possible.

I might also do my least favorite moment of the day. I think that might be valuable as well.

Today’s moments.

+ Sleeping in… the warm bed so cozy and soft. I woke up nice and happy.

not + I was running and this bicyclist insisted on passing on my left… which means pushing me out into the road. She even got all grumpy. Made me grumpy.

Mutants have landed

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I was asleep thirty years
I woke and found my nation
dry – hot
the land sucked by mutants
their bodies plump and rounded
with deficiencies of balance
their fingers spread across the land
a network of fences and wires
and the
imprints from their feet
with PSI so high
were miles deep
canyons in the land.

9/20/2010 © Andrew Swanson

Feed the meter

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My dear friend, hold a moment
I love your story
I feel for your plight
but  the time on your meter
is exhausted.
You’ll need another dime
find another spot
to park your plights.  Of course
you could stay anyway
and risk a ticket
and a court date.

9/20/2010 © Andrew Swanson

Sexy Read

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Reading a sexy
novel
all wrapped in velvet
and a sultry title
words trip turn
elegant like apple blossoms
and their budding fruit
explodes flavor on my tongue
text – a tingle on the tip
tip.
expectation.

9/20/2010 © Andrew Swanson

Grasp

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I am the one.
The important grasping hand.
In my day to day
as much as I
want to give, love, protect.
It all comes down
to me,
for me.

9/20/2010 © Andrew Swanson

72 words – web

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The dew hangs heavy.  Drops on every leaf fall like rain in the infrequent breeze.  My steps imprint in the green grass, even, bending, forcing it down to touch its toes.  Sound is muffled and the sun is soft and pale through the fuzzy cotton of morning.  Ahead I see the liquid outline, natural strings binding one side of the trail to the other.  My strides strong seek to break the bond and pull the trail apart.  I step, strike and stick to a stop in a giant malicious web.  My scream is dew muzzled.  Giant fangs swing down.

© 8/22/2010 Andrew Swanson

Paradise

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Written while listening to The Legendary Pink Dots – Pennies from Heaven

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ff1vvIM0GCs]

Paradise
it has its price

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I am drinking coffee
beans picked in Central America
roasted in California
ceramic mug fired in Singapore
shipped on a  barge fueled from Brazil
milk from a happy California cow
stove top made in Germany
sugar’d sweet from Jamaica
the grounds and paper filter
will live in a landfill for years and years
the dirty water
will hit our sewer system
my urine
I am only drinking coffee
and writing on paper from felled Washington trees
with a mechanical pencil from China
In a nice warm room
heated by a furnace made of metal
burning Natural Gas, mysteriously available
and paid for.
Next I will complain
about the cloud cover and the missing sun
and wonder how real global warning could be
considering how little we’ve seen of the sun
lately.
And then I will wonder
what is is like to live
self – sustained.  Alone.
I don’t think I can really know.
My knowledge is tainted by imports.

© 8/13/2010 Andrew Swanson