It is important to move one’s mind to make space for planets, conversations, for the rhythms of a driving car and the unencumbered sensations of wine. Ancient symbols of wisdom and disbelief. For the soft genesis of myth, the unlikelihood of martyrdom and all the colors of gardens and saints. Open eyes and crocodiles.
Rebellion is an art of passage, urban myths and cherry trees. The sight of god on makeshift washboard hands, motionless as they carry. Apparitions of angels and orange trees. If simple things had peaceful wings.
Leaving mountains. The soft corridors of being. Miracles of silence, blood thick forests, and shelters. Loosely, at first light. The absurdity of death, radios. Shallow leaves and desperation. Behind stranger skies, the wild thrust of gods and hammers.
The Used Life 
7 responses to “Barefoot, On a Dashboard”
Very fantastic post 😊🤗
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Thank you very much!
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You are welcome 🙏
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I love that first line. And I agree, the creating of space, is important. Where would we be without it? Then to end it with last line about stranger skies–so good!
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Thank you! I began jotting these lines down last night and actually had the last line first. When I woke up this morning, I decided it didn’t feel right and wanted to approach it differently. I am happy you enjoyed it!
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À une époque où beaucoup de gens ne lisent ni n’écoutent, vous, en tant que poète, devez à la fois maîtriser le chaos et le suivre là où il mène. Vous semblez donc obligé d’inventer votre propre langage … Et ainsi, plein d’inspiration, il pénètre poétiquement sans se laisser capturer. Comment ça m’a pénétré. 🙂
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And in a world where language is empty, there is always the possibility of creating new meaning. Merci de toujours soutenir mes expériences poétiques. 🙂
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