Monsters

Silence is underfoot - too many thoughts trampling parades of cacophonous monsters and trash into every moment. I wish I could watch it all pass and laugh, but instead, I see everything. I don't believe everything, but I see everything. Then I am angry, and then I am angry because I am angry, which is simply, a big stupid circle of stupidity.

I have been away at this charade for most of the day, and now I am ready to go home.

"BE STILL!" I shout to all of my imagined monsters like the child from WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE by Maurice Sendak.

I want this mind to be a bare mirror, reflecting earth, soul, object, light, and color. I want to wait and watch while ideas appear like hot air balloons, breathing fire and blowing in the wind.

I sit and place a white page under pencil. Then I scribble, hoping the sight will write some of the noise away.

I will not be eaten up by my wild things.

Clatter happens, and when it does, I can always climb into my paper sailboat and float for home.