MMVII: Adam Barnick

This post uses the style of the BBF's weekly experimental writing series,
Bedbugs.*


Click here if you have not read one before, to see how Bedbugs is created.









Picking up the rest of the branches requires effort; what does she
do when she can't even look at you? Too much looking back,
not enough looking ahead causes a rash in anyone who waits
on the old bridge, swaying in the winter wind. Where are the sounds
coming from? Purple footprints in the laquered finish turn out to be
manifestations of the self abuse; stopped halfway just as the group's
often did, if that's what the teacher required. Somnabulistic
voyeurs wait next to the force guiding your pen across your life.
The knowledge of year felt wasted. Spent up in a cloud of
iridescent ash that doesn't match anyone on earth.
On stage, singing, the crowd's gone home,
or perhaps but lessons learned
are what was truly needed. I felt the car had run out of
fuel but it was a trick. We could even walk to the old building
if we had to, I can see it amidst the overgrowth of
ideas that can save me. Friendships strengthened on the steps
of her porch. Names were carved into the wood I'd never heard of.
The note on the welcome mat says I will know their names in time,
when I am ready for creativity growing as well
as making the veins in our arms run smoothly. All known here
seems to tell you the next 365 will be great.

Adam

*The sole exception was that the 'seven phrases' were deliberately chosen.