Thinking Inkly: A Little Bit of Love for You

Little Spud In The Big Apple

I’m thinking about why I do this.

Thinking about why this one way communication takes place between us. I’m thinking about what possesses me to be a part of this maddening process where I stay up hours and nights, dreaming and dozing and starting and nodding my way through the lines and the path and the word, just to try to find the clarity in the chaos.I do it for you.

I hope that you know that, and if you didn’t know it I hope that you know it now. I hope that you see the purity of my intention to just stagger into the scene, half-drunk, tripping over a fold in God’s bathrobe and falling to the floor, cursing and sputtering little bits and bubbles of spit the whole way.

I do it because I love the fall. I do it because each time, each fall, is a reminder…

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Shouting With Hands

Little Spud In The Big Apple

let me tell you
let me tell you
let me tell you
diving into words
deep into the phrases
what resides somewhere within
the true quiet morphemes
and thinking now of a man who communicates with his hands
told me a story once of a conference that he went to
sitting among hundreds of other men and women
watching a video of a mouth
repeatedly looping the letter “p”
and upon closing the eyes,
one would hear the letter “b” being spoken
where before there was an unvoiced bilabial plosive
there now was a voiced bilabial plosive
the sound in its own cosm,
becoming a bit more human,
less of a whisper or a breeze,
one step closer to a shout;

I know this man,
A voiced plosive
possibly a trill
an alveolar trill
A man of kindness
of conversation,
of words,
of culture,
of hats purchased from street vendors

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