Author Archives: YoungOfBlood
Machinarium
Rule 1 is you can’t think while weilding the sharpie. Words slip,become loose things. Squigglesof lines without design You must be the void. Let muscle memory take over–Is this what it means to be human?
Two Sticks Do Not Make a Duck
There is a wedge of land between the parking lot and the sidewalk below a giant Redwood at the corner of City Hall. Chips of wood skirt the base of the behemoth before being engulfed in the folds of a low maintenance ground cover. This is the corner of the lot designated for electric cars […]
Copy & Paste
I tire of the virtue signaling. Altruism camera deepThin as any skin, Caught in the act of caring.
Tender Green
The Paperwhites begin to bloomduring the coldest month. Against all odds–More rain in the forecast. We need it. And the fresh things that growfrom thirst. It is the time of year when I becomefamiliar with the creakof floorboards. Pacing. Time to kill. The odd customernot really looking, Which means no finding. I fill space like […]
T(ask)ed
Who put the pens in the oven? Folded neatly in the sheets? Paper under the tucked edges of the bed. Minced words like garlic. Chopped notebooks in the celery and potatoes–put them in a stew. Three persimmons on otherwise perfectly barren branches blushed in protest at the window. Waved with cobwebs holding tight to the […]
Fun House
We hold up mirrors in the Great Echo Chamber. Accept affirmations Like we didn’t ask for them– Scalable likability. Voices so loud we forgot how to listen. Hard and fast lines That strip all of nuance, Context. False humility is God here. Here– Where we cast projections of self like Sacrificial lambs Before a social […]
Margie
I remember the movement. Aunt Margie always in motion. Even from the lens of childhood when we went to M & M’s house – Mike and Margie – they were always on the move. On the road. Never sedentary. There was always the project car. The project bike. The camper. Inanimate objects that personified variance, […]
Big Dream
I walk into the store and lock the door behind me. Feel the staleness of the air. The creak of the floorboards–some even moan as if in protest at my step. I flip on the lights. Key in pre-ordered transactions. Plug in the iron. I had the boxes shipped to my house, not the store. […]
Neon Signs
I see the distorted white of my legs underwater against the porcelain white of the tub. My legs stretched the full length of the bottom. Pink toes like a neon sign and John Prine playing from my phone ‘cause he died today. Coronavirus. And his songs always stir up memories in me and I feel […]
Young of Blood 