so what's your truth? your story?

poesia

i can almost answer myself

but i get distracted

by my well-behaved face

in this familiar crash i

put on my purpose i

take strange notes i

magnify my mission

before time runs out i

have a soft spot for softness

and small birds

everything lasts

(depending on your definition)

is that what she wants? for everything to last? am i

(thinking in third person again?)

my writing teacher, Jack Grapes, asks,

What is the story of your life? what is the truth of who you are?

i had never heard such bottom-linery

it’s my favorite delight

I like this quest best

of all

like autumn peaches

like lakeside dreams

like sweet solitude

i will take my lifetime to answer thoughtfully

i tattoo the words on my wrists

What is the story of your life? what is the truth of who you are?

i see these words when i wash my hands for 20 seconds after being out in the world singing her majesty’s a pretty nice girl but she doesn’t have a lot to say, her majesty’s a pretty nice girl but she changes from day to day, i wanna tell her that i love her a lot but i gotta get a belly full of wine, her majesty’s a pretty nice girl someday i’m gonna make her mine, oh yeah, someday i’m gonna make her mine - bo!

it’s not 20 seconds but close enough

What is the story of your life? what is the truth of who you are?

i look for hints

under the rug of who i’ve been

in the junk drawer of

doing it for them

in the shed

of what i thought i wanted

the dust bunnies turn my coughs

into laughter

and i remember myself

---

I drew my teacher, Jack, on the first day of class a few years ago where I also took notes. It’s in my signed limited edition art book, Twenty-five drawings.

Get your copy here. Twenty-five Drawings