Most days
September 20th 2008

Most days I go downstairs and find
something wonderful to eat like
buttered toast and earl grey tea and carry
it all back upstairs with the delightful
idea of stealing a movie
from my dad's credit card
And downloading it from itunes.

Sitting on the floor with my tea
and my toast I look up at the screen
and let the Beauty wash over me.

And now a universe has squeezed
its way in through the little red arteries
in my eyes. Like dye
that shows the doctors things
that they couldn’t see before.

“We can see the particular cavities
Where imagination and believability swim
around and wait for other people’s ideas
to arrive. We can see they are squeezed
and prodded and swirled around until
they are adequate for transfer to the next piece
of my brain. The piece
that controls the pride, the entitlement and
the potential of me.

And we can see
That this second chamber
of judgment, behind my eyes,
Houses a predictable little response who
Turns up its nose
at the mutilated bits
of other people’s universes. Because
the little response has just received
Word from me
and I know that we
Could have created such a perfect work of art.

Sometimes I take my dirty dishes
back downstairs thinking about
what a genius I am
Sometimes I leave
my dishes on the floor and go downstairs
empty handed, but always
Thinking about what a genius I am

I smile as I get more toast
More tea and do it all over again
Knowing all along that I
am headed for greatness and that
all my daily habits are somehow
helping me to get there.