disturbed (fragment)

It disturbs me even thinking about it. I don’t embarrass easily, but this was such a disaster. The sound of one hand clapping.

Sometimes I think about performing, all the performing I’ve done, and I know I have been carrying out someone else’s vision. And as I write that I think, bull! I interpreted someone else’s work, and I was good at it. Yeah. Not that I had no voice. It disturbs me to think I have no voice now. No imagination.

Oh. That’s horribly disturbing, the idea, the knowledge that my imagination is being sucked dry. Is sucked dry.

Where do I nurture the well?

Being married disturbs me. Being alive often disturbs me.

I think our new neighbors downstairs are going to disturb me.

© 2006

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I'm a rock-n-roller poet who left the Big Apple for the Big Sky Desert where I've been letting it be and grooving with universal love, singing to the gods, dancing with the muses and bicycling with dreamtime messengers. I like altering my reality through imagination, movement, breath, and makin' stuff.

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