cracks in the wall
He can only talk about his feelings when he’s hiding in a box.
I bring him cardboard boxes from the supermarket. I ask him questions. Have you ever had long hair? Do you like hares and rabbits? Have you seen a tornado? Would you like to feel an earthquake? Have you been in a jumbo jet? Can you talk well or not so well? I like your hat.
And he says, I like playing this game of looking for meaning in cracks in the wall.
benchic said,
January 15, 2009 at 12:51 pm
There is something about this I think is pretty much perfect. I can’t help but think of it as an exchange between the part of you that physically writes (taps the keys, holds the pen) and the part of you that breathes out the words themselves. I love it. I love the madness and the truth and the fury and the stillness of it.
thebeardedlady said,
January 15, 2009 at 4:26 pm
Wow. Excellent comment. Thank you so much.
I don’t think I ever knew what this piece was about, but I like your interpretation.
Thanks for the love