JUNKHEAD

It gets taxing summing up times the days moving slowly but at unreal speeds Over the cliff I peered hundreds of miles below trees all the way down some water too am I dreaming it is so far down do cliffs this high up really exist? How far down is it really? My perception must be skewed, but it has to be miles down there, but I can see the detail of the trees. And the water too
I can see the water,
I take a step back turn around AND THERE MY FATHER STANDS the honest man, he looks at me blankly
Well, with a bit of a smile, he runs with all his speed I don t remember what he was wearing, but he
Was
Wearing clothes such a whitewash but the trees and cliffs were shimmering vividly all hues the spectrum in between am I
Remembering this, or am I here now Cannot distinguish time from the past.
The present it moves faster now, as my honest father runs and jumps.

My god he did it jumped from the cliff my heart dropped with him he will surly perish

I hear him splashing where im at
Where I am going
and, where I am coming from
and the ghost of my past that I am running from
All the things in my life that I haven’t done
I must jump
I must jump
I jump, hit every tree all the way down
Scraping my body I feel it.

Am I blind? what does this sight bring me?
How far down is a million miles, I must been have falling for like 15 minutes
And I know
That is a calculable speed
How much time equals time
You can only fall so fast, it is just a matter of physics

And I am going
The reds
Into blues
Not the color but the sound
Blues notes

I do not remember when I felt water it splashed
My father ahead of me treads the water:

I have to get this done
I
Must
Get this done
I
Do
Not
Want to do it
I
Wanna cry

The tears would be easy
But
To stop them, never could figure that out

A little store in my hometown deep in the south must have had things in there
He remembered the game what was it ? hey rusty, what was that game?
The tears flowing time or pure metaphors for something else
She was pretty
My first love or
At Least my first encounter with sex
it wasn’t her first time , she was kind
She slammed my head in the door ripped my shirt I never cheated on her
She was the only one
Except for the new one
New not like cheap suites but new like true love

She is at
School

Learning

You are gonna die before you grow up before you grow up
To
Get
This
Done
I must take a break at number too

This side of the page
This side of the page up
From the right side he
Listens to opera
From the left
It must be punkrock
Or
In the middle he can’t relate to himself
Must chisel a path an identity
He refuses

He must get this done

It has been months now they turn into years
People dressed in bird costumes waiting to dance on the cliff

We all killed the dear that night
High on trees and lsd, the cops peered in the car, but left us behind to be arrested another day
I come here 7 days a week
He played hank Williams on this portable tape player, this one right here
Beneath the trees massive texas thickit behind an empty lake
I would not see her again for years when he jumped she saved me:

I could see him swimming
ahead of me
I was alive down from the cliff
The water rushed in, my father swam hard up against the draining water
Draining to where I don’t know
But
I followed him
Son
Not only do you have to jump of the cliff, but you have to swim upstream as well
Againt the rising tides,,,, End of that . was it 2 months later he was killed

The funeral wasn’t much fun
I was addicted, had been livin hard on the streets for some time
My family didn’t care
Everyone heart broken he was an honest man.

I threw their followers away in my mind in the dumpster
The
Truth
Is
I
Lied a lot
Brutally
I don’t
I dont lie as much
To myself
However, true is the lie of life never alive
Can’t they see we are ghosts and have always been moving through this place really kind of well

Too think it
To plan it
Two rows of words

This first road in every sense was one of each
One of each smell

To rearrange it
He could not do

But
Fake it
He could do that, the whole thing
Fake as the hunter of the ghost
The ghost
Who
Makes them believe they are really lying about the ghost
The ghosts know
For she
Commanded them commands them of color

See
That

It is a trick, they play
Everyone a ghost
But, some are tricksters

Make you believe in taste
Make you believe in sight

Assholes! The truth the truth we are not anywhere ever

I know must this be an explanantion?
No…
I am running behind. I cant keep up because of myself
I
Must
Finsh
But I am tired of this one, always taking up my
Time
I know time
The leaves trained me long ago
Only 44 more falls left and I will be done 44 falls?

Like the season?4
No
Like the act
Oh
More or less spellbound and gagged I could not put my finger on it
It purred

Many of birds
I killed a bunch

I am so sad,
Just sad is it depression all those dead birds killed
Forgetting is it remembering all those dead birds killed

We kill the dead everyday
Every night

Live the ghost

Why not call the ghosts something different, like a specter or something?
Txting his girl he lol’s, that is pure

Pure isolation
Yep, I know time the one they missed it was down and out
Forever the trader of dreams

On and on you do not stop
Its physics

How can I be lost, when I have nowhere to go?
Easy, you are already are where you went!

Seems so simply, the reflection, it was the cliff I had to jump

Wow, it is obvious to me now it was his last lesson, his personal truth was in fact my own
True to me it isn’t selfish how could I be true to you If I cannot be true to me?

The music sounds compressed
I miss the warmth of vinyl

And honestly I miss my daughter

Very much.

Crying again, he has been taught
Things take time
These things take time chris

But

I want what I want and I want it now
The first step is honesty

He taught me that
Years before I learned it

I just want to give up, it’s too much

She had a band new outlook, a psychedelic soberness, country psychedelic

Did it change then?

Rusty built his truck from the ground up
100 separate trucks make one
One really really fast 350

He built it from the ground up,

Dust
Man, before time
He built it out of dust
And it went really fast, I guess slippery would be the term for the truck

The first time we were in buckets, buckets for the seats
And moving

Trailer truck
Backwoods camping
Coyote shots fired
Ac on full blast all night
Then the morning heat again, man I miss that

Eve she was born
In heat
Or

I mean in the evening there was heat I could not refuse the food
Man that was a good meal, chicken fried steak old time music 50’s style diner

Breakfast in the present
Is she the one who
Is she the one would jump, I think maybe she already did

She
Must

He
Must
Finish this

They were both involved and that’s for sure, could this be or is it just that?
Do I have time for this; do I have time for the math?

The words spilled out in the puzzle
The speeds approached sound and I was ok
I was ok with that

Many
More

Lines to fill, and I would not fake it,

And back again the forecast was snow
And I am ok with that

It gets too hard sometimes, remembering
What’s right.

Just a little prayer before we go
I followed him up the rushing water

And I cant believe it just stopped there
The bird no jump

The breath in
No exhale

He was whitewashed no color
Honestly jumped

And it falls asleep
At speeds I cannot even fathom, humans going by at 800 miles an hour asleep

This is too much
We are birds as much as we are not.

(The original poem’s visual presentation was lost with the Word Press setting. Hope to correct this soon. This poem specifically suffered from the graphical visual deprivation….. Jenny we need you!)

Copyright, Christopher Leet 2011

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