Monday, November 27, 2006

Heart In a Box

I don't know.


I watched "Mindwalk" tonight. Yesterday I watched "Stranger Than Fiction" with my wife at the Downtown Cinema Center.

I am a huge sucker for the well-intentioned disassembly of the world. Making sense of it. Doing some kind of meditative, contemplative analysis of our condition.

Like a three year old, I still believe that sense can be made of our predicament.


Today I tried to explain this idea I had to my wife. The idea, which I won't bore you with, seemed so full of resonance and beauty and love. But it fell flat with her. I thought, I don't know. I could change the world with it. I thought, if you heard it, you'd weep and laugh and say of course, of course.

And go do it.

And encourage everyone to do it.


I'll probably do it anyway.


One thing is, I love you. I think about you all the time. I don't say anything to anyone about it. I think Jack Gilbert has it pretty close to right. I don't know if there is anything more important to our happiness than poetry. Just think about Wallace Stevens. What music went on in his erudite head? And then we go on with the killing. With the machetes. In the night. With the terrible disassembly. Our fascination with blood.

My own.

My god, I've stood in the blood, in sticky puddles of it. Brains on a sidewalk, splattered on a wall, in a planter, in the bathroom sink of a hotel room, in a pot on a stove. In my own two hands. Making the pathologist say it again- 'here's the cerebellum.' 'this is the frontal lobe.' 'see that, there, that little nub that looks just like the clitoris? the pituitary.'

this one guy, he killed somebody. he went out to the koi pond in the middle of the night, tried to clean everything up in there.

seemed like a good idea.

but when we were all standing around the koi pond at nine o'clock in the morning, the pond looking like cherry kool-aid, it didn't seem like he'd thought it all the way through.

one time, looking through crime scene photos, I saw a picture of myself.

Squatting down, looking at some blood stains on a sidewalk.

I didn't know it was me at first. Just some guy.

But I thought-

that guy?

He's going to put a case down.

That guy's doing the job.


I seen it was me, a second later?

It made me smile.


What I do is to love this world.

And stand around in its guts, all the beauty of it running red and wet down some gutter, wasted.

Then I make a picture. Maybe
write a poem, a little

Shake my head.


Try to put it down.


I know you are out there, waiting for me. I see your face. What he did to you. The way he left you.

I haven't figured it out yet.

I know you're still waiting.


I haven't forgotten.



Anonymous Anonymous said...

nor will you ever. there's this guy out there somewhere, a lot like you. only you won't recognize him at first. i can imagine a lot of the stuff he knows, enough of it to give him my trust. and i hope he'll tell us someday that he writes poems.

it took me a long time to learn this, scott, but wives were put here to say no. or sometimes to just grunt and give one of those faraway looks way off somewhere in the sky.

3:29 PM  
Blogger mikaelah said...

great stuff you write down here...
images too ...
and I have seen a lot of blood working in the ICU's and never ever got used to it. Never.

8:02 AM  
Blogger aleah said...

I needed to read this today. More than you will know.

12:49 PM  
Blogger 666poetry-finchnot said...

whew / i've come back & read this
a few times / / /

you / a maze me

i hope you are well scott


12:20 AM  
Anonymous The Human Museum said...

Mindwalk is such a good movie based on an exceptional book. I once made an audio tape of the dialogue to listen to while I worked.

11:37 PM  
Blogger LKD said...

Head's up, coach:

The links for the 2 Jims blogs are bad.

Both bring up bogus sites that are hard to back out of--and the one, I swear, tried to download shit onto my computer before I could get loose of it.

Just thought you'd wanna know.

And hey, Jim & Jim? What the hell, man? Where the heck are your blogs??

9:59 AM  
Blogger jim said...


I took my blog in a fit of frustration etc. -- I would have left it there blank if I had known that the link would take you on a wild cyber goose chase. Sorry.

My new blog is here --

12:19 PM  
Blogger LKD said...

I've already got your new blog on my blog roll.

I'm still afraid to click on Native's though. I'll have to wait and see if he comments somewhere then click on his blog from his user profile.

I swear, whatever the hell it is that took over your blog site and his is...creepy. Ever entered a website that wouldn't let you back out of it un(oh my god...I just shouted at the top of my voice: JESUS CHRIST SHUT FOR A MINUTE!!!! at my damned cat---so much for Xmas spirit, eh?), um...unless you backed out of by turning your computer completely off? That's what these sites are that grabbed hold of your former blog space and Native's.

You realize that you can just rename your blog, right? You don't have to tear down the whole thing every time. I've renamed mine...geez, countless times. It seems like too much work to create a whole new blog.

(Hey, Dish, merry merry to you and yours. Miss you, man. Hope you don't mind me hijacking your comment box regarding this whole thing---but I thought others should know that the links to those 2 blogs were bad bad bad...)

2:39 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Morning: settling her buckling body in the car parked outside the main lobby turn-around, covering her lap with a blanket, hugging her and her family goodbye, all of us entrusting this cancer to hospice.
After lunch: finding the 'responsible' friend in the lounge, eyes dilated with heroin or something - asking him, "are you going to be able to do this - manage the transfers to the wheel chair?" Both of us acknowledging his high with our eyes, both of us wondering if it would all fall apart in a matter of hours.
Midafternoon: hiding the boots of the patient in 447 at the desk - a simple ploy to keep him safe in his room so he won't return to his soggy, cold "camp" behind Fred Meyer's Store - to break a hip. Three rounds of 'agitation' later, followed by mirrored rounds of somnolent fiddling with the cd player - and he's still here.

It's kind of the same as what you are describing Scott - nursing. Finding a tenderness toward it all - learning to stop pushing against it, trying to make it right and in order - some of it never gets in order by any one's measure. Great writing Scott - thank you for how you take time to reflect on things. Reminds me of the art within the day to day. Challenges me to exercise that thing I've labelled tolerance which is really a form of recognizing the untrustworthiness of all my reference points. Merry Christmas and happy holidays. Mary

8:57 PM  
Blogger 21k said...

here it is dec 22 and i've been visiting your blog off again and on again since i got back from extended emergency family stay in Georgia that started out thanksgiving and ended up in a hospital and i finally decided i had to tell you that the day my mother was told she needed emergency heart surgery is the day you posted heart on charred wood and the day she had her surgery was the day you posted heart in a box, and when i came home from her bedside and found your posts there, that really struck me as you-know-what and finally i'm telling you this & hoping that soon you will revisit this blog world because we miss you & my mother is doing okay now and thank you for those hearts

10:02 AM  
Blogger Radish King said...

Wishing you and your family heart and art and deep play and good potatoes and a rich garden and lots of fresh baked bread and warm soup and ripe strawberries and unbounded love and sea water and friendly tides in 2007.


7:48 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

good stuff. wish we had the cash to visit.


7:23 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

i don't know if you want to read it, scott, but if you do, could you send your email to the email listed in my blog? i've gone and made mine by-invite-only because a person from my past (who scares me) has gone and found my blog again, and i'm tired of changing the location.

happy new year.

8:53 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

hello scott

like every one else
wonder ing where you've got to

i hope you are okay / i know
how life gets busy / & we
step a way from things like blogging

be well my friend /
have a wonder full new year


5:46 PM  
Blogger With Hammer And Tong...The LetterShaper said...

I very much enjoyed my stroll through this site; as a poet and an avid reader, I found it both entertaining and enlightening...beautiful photos.

1:18 PM  
Blogger LKD said...

It's been two months, mister.

I know life is realer than real.

I just wanted to let you know that I miss you.

I miss your real.

3:19 PM  
Blogger 666poetry-finchnot said...

please come back

i miss you too

6:06 PM  

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