Usually
I call to speak of nothing
Just call
Sometimes I think I'm moving boulders
Sometimes just throwing stones
We laugh at the cracks
In the rocks
In my hands
And what spills out surprises us both
Banners
Flailing atop thinking towers
Some blood red
Some ghostly white
Others just grey
Invisible
Unraveling and blathering, endlessly
Into the child night
I call to speak of nothing
Just call
I call to hear her listen
And so I can listen too
copyright tom ewing 2008
Friday, January 4, 2008
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Watching Movies
There in the darkness
unknown and alone
laughs can't be heard
tears aren't shown
He sees his life flicker
in other men's lives
stares at their faces
looks in their eyes
A strange voyeurism
up there on the screen
look, but don't touch
see, don't be seen
Here in the darkness
unknown and alone
memory takes shape
becomes flesh and bone
Emotional theatre
colored lights flash
Are these golden moments
just childish trash?
Is that what happened?
Is that what was said?
Is the man in the dark
still the boy in my head?
We keep a safe distance
from the spinning real
It always seemed better
to think than to feel
copyright 2007 t. ewing
unknown and alone
laughs can't be heard
tears aren't shown
He sees his life flicker
in other men's lives
stares at their faces
looks in their eyes
A strange voyeurism
up there on the screen
look, but don't touch
see, don't be seen
Here in the darkness
unknown and alone
memory takes shape
becomes flesh and bone
Emotional theatre
colored lights flash
Are these golden moments
just childish trash?
Is that what happened?
Is that what was said?
Is the man in the dark
still the boy in my head?
We keep a safe distance
from the spinning real
It always seemed better
to think than to feel
copyright 2007 t. ewing
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Wrestling with Angels (excerpt from Tonya's Book)
Where was I when we drew for sleeping assignments?I must have missed that night because I definitely got stuck with the short stick. Jay is old enough to put himself to sleep, and you put Teddy to bed, which is just great cause, half the time, Teddy asks to go to bed. Three sucks on his milk jug and he's out. Which means you put in about 4 minutes and then you're sitting in your chair watching T.V. Which leaves me with Tommy.
We climb up on that creaky bunk bed and I watch him do back-flips for an hour. It's like trying to put a chimpanzee on a sugar rush to sleep. Even after his head has seemingly gone to sleep, his body is awake for another 30 minutes.
I have concluded that Tommy wrestles with angels. I've come to this conclusion because a) I've had way too much time to think about it lying next to him for hours every night and b) it's a better image than sleeping with a chimp.
Of course, there some good things that happen while t is entering round 57 with the angel Gabriel. It gives me time to think. I know you're thinking if that really is a "good" thing. I assure you it is...most of the time.
I lie there in their room, painted like a beach, listening to the hum of the heater. I look at the glow-in-the-dark plastic stars on their ceiling. (By the way, Tommy's favorite star is the big one over his bed. I know this because we have had many lengthy and in-depth discussions on the subject).
As Tommy twitches, the hum of the heater becomes the crashing of the ocean; the sky is real and the the beach is Ocean City, NJ. I am 21 years old. I used to go to the beach at night, lie on the sand dunes and look at the sky. I would think about the Greeks and Romans who would study this same sky, thousands of years ago, searching for the will of the gods to be revealed, looking for their destiny. I could not see my destiny in that sky. I did not see your face or the children.Nothing. At that point in my life, I think I was more focused on the black void than the bright stars.
I think about our destiny now, and our families future. When I think of our young trio going to high school and beyond, it seems as distant as the stars in the winter sky. But, I well know, it is as close as the ones on our son's ceiling.
Ssshhh...Tommy's finally asleep.
copyright2007 T.Ewing
We climb up on that creaky bunk bed and I watch him do back-flips for an hour. It's like trying to put a chimpanzee on a sugar rush to sleep. Even after his head has seemingly gone to sleep, his body is awake for another 30 minutes.
I have concluded that Tommy wrestles with angels. I've come to this conclusion because a) I've had way too much time to think about it lying next to him for hours every night and b) it's a better image than sleeping with a chimp.
Of course, there some good things that happen while t is entering round 57 with the angel Gabriel. It gives me time to think. I know you're thinking if that really is a "good" thing. I assure you it is...most of the time.
I lie there in their room, painted like a beach, listening to the hum of the heater. I look at the glow-in-the-dark plastic stars on their ceiling. (By the way, Tommy's favorite star is the big one over his bed. I know this because we have had many lengthy and in-depth discussions on the subject).
As Tommy twitches, the hum of the heater becomes the crashing of the ocean; the sky is real and the the beach is Ocean City, NJ. I am 21 years old. I used to go to the beach at night, lie on the sand dunes and look at the sky. I would think about the Greeks and Romans who would study this same sky, thousands of years ago, searching for the will of the gods to be revealed, looking for their destiny. I could not see my destiny in that sky. I did not see your face or the children.Nothing. At that point in my life, I think I was more focused on the black void than the bright stars.
I think about our destiny now, and our families future. When I think of our young trio going to high school and beyond, it seems as distant as the stars in the winter sky. But, I well know, it is as close as the ones on our son's ceiling.
Ssshhh...Tommy's finally asleep.
copyright2007 T.Ewing
Awake
Drifting from sleep to dreadful awakening,
Consciousness surges then recedes back to black.
Thursday the second, or is it just Wednesday?
Time drips from a faucet he has yet to fix.
Dreaming the dream of eternal slumber,
Responsibilities hit him in waves.
Drop Billy at school then on to the office.
The Beetleman contract must be done by ten.
Mortgage is late and now so is he.
Car runs like hell, insurance premium's way over due.
Why must everyday start with such panic?
Such scraping and clawing for a breath of fresh air?
Smothered by promises, unkept obligations,
Why can't life flow on without him today?
No response given, frustration subsiding,
He floats back into the calm murky depths.
The liquid warmth of the space that surrounds him
Forms droplets of worry on his unwrinkled brow.
Soon she'd be yelling, hell would be breaking,
So leaving this heaven, he opens his eyes.
Impenetrable blackness.
Was he still sleeping?
Attempting to wipe the dream from his head
His knuckles knock against a tightly sealed lid.
Lying with Fear in a plush little box
A thought
--buried--
Now starts to arise.
The darkness constrains him,
Confines and contains him.
Thrashing and splashing in restricted motion,
He wriggles on satin that ripples and squirms.
Choking on panic, he digs in the darkness
Of cushions and stuffing and splintering wood.
Finger nails bloodied, teeth broken from gnawing,
He hears the ominous thunder of his own beating heart.
Eyes glazed and widened,
He drifts in the blackness,
Sinks in submission and
Drowns in the dark.
coptright2007 T. Ewing
Consciousness surges then recedes back to black.
Thursday the second, or is it just Wednesday?
Time drips from a faucet he has yet to fix.
Dreaming the dream of eternal slumber,
Responsibilities hit him in waves.
Drop Billy at school then on to the office.
The Beetleman contract must be done by ten.
Mortgage is late and now so is he.
Car runs like hell, insurance premium's way over due.
Why must everyday start with such panic?
Such scraping and clawing for a breath of fresh air?
Smothered by promises, unkept obligations,
Why can't life flow on without him today?
No response given, frustration subsiding,
He floats back into the calm murky depths.
The liquid warmth of the space that surrounds him
Forms droplets of worry on his unwrinkled brow.
Soon she'd be yelling, hell would be breaking,
So leaving this heaven, he opens his eyes.
Impenetrable blackness.
Was he still sleeping?
Attempting to wipe the dream from his head
His knuckles knock against a tightly sealed lid.
Lying with Fear in a plush little box
A thought
--buried--
Now starts to arise.
The darkness constrains him,
Confines and contains him.
Thrashing and splashing in restricted motion,
He wriggles on satin that ripples and squirms.
Choking on panic, he digs in the darkness
Of cushions and stuffing and splintering wood.
Finger nails bloodied, teeth broken from gnawing,
He hears the ominous thunder of his own beating heart.
Eyes glazed and widened,
He drifts in the blackness,
Sinks in submission and
Drowns in the dark.
coptright2007 T. Ewing
A Simple Slant Of Light (excerpt from Tonya's Book)
I have the advantage of being the first one up on most mornings. It is one of the few times our house is quiet. I usually sit and have a cup of coffee while I read the paper. But the paper is not here this morning so I am just sitting, smoking a cigarette, and drinking my coffee. I'm thinking about how cold my feet are because, once again either Tommy or Teddy have stolen my slippers. When I let Grendel out, the only other one up this morning, I open the blinds on the front door. A single ray of sunlight comes through and hits the mirror above the coat rack, sending a slant of light streaming through the room. The beam ends at the bottom of the stairs near the kitchen. So I sit mindlessly sending smoke through the slant of light. The smoke forms the most beautiful patterns then disappears. It sets my mind to thinking of the many memories in this room. Ricky and Jay's countless wrestling matches on the floor; Myla's heels clicking down the stairs on the way to the eighth grade dance; Teddy sitting near the post on Christmas morning in only a diaper; the birthday and holiday dinners at the dining room table; Tommy duck-taped to the post; Teddy throwing his chair across the floor; the pregnant you sitting in your chair;Jay tying his shoes getting ready for school; answering the door with your shot gun to greet one of Myla's dates; and all the various friends and employees that have shared our wood burner. All these images dance like phantoms around the room as I sit and have my coffee. And these memories pass through my mind like smoke through a simple slant of light.
copyright thomas ewing 2007
copyright thomas ewing 2007
Tonya's Book
One of the better ideas I've ever had, was to start a book for my wife when we first met. The book is simply a journal of our life together. However, as usual,the simplest of ideas turn out the best. My wife loves the book and I give it to her every Christmas morning with new entries. As we are coming up on the 25th, I am in the process of writing this years chronicles. Just thought I'd fill you in so you would know what "excerpt from Tonya's Book" meant.
copyright Thomas Ewing 2007
copyright Thomas Ewing 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
skating
He awoke to an iron sky
Steel storm clouds hung heavily on the horizon
The wind whistled at his door
He dressed--futile protection from the cold
outside and within
Lifting the blades from the shelf
He surveyed the vast, frozen wasteland
that lay before him
The grey snow crunched and crackled under
the weight of his step.
Walking against the wind, water welled up in his eyes and
his nose began to run
as his body released the briefest shiver.
He reached that familiar point.
Icy blue veins could be seen just below the surface.
Knelling on the edge, he caught his blurred reflection.
Previous images swept through his mind--
Dreams of gliding, gracefully sliding
from one side to the other.
Delicately slicing through the smooth, thin surface.
Severing connections, gloriously sailing
Instead
Stumbling, falling, failing
Barely conscious, awkwardly aching
lying on his back
under the iron sky
He grips the blade in his frozen hand
trying to mount his courage
Through tear filled eyes, he catches his blurred reflection
in the bathroom mirror.
The razor drops to the smooth white tile
as the wind howls against the motionless clouds.
copyright t. ewing
Steel storm clouds hung heavily on the horizon
The wind whistled at his door
He dressed--futile protection from the cold
outside and within
Lifting the blades from the shelf
He surveyed the vast, frozen wasteland
that lay before him
The grey snow crunched and crackled under
the weight of his step.
Walking against the wind, water welled up in his eyes and
his nose began to run
as his body released the briefest shiver.
He reached that familiar point.
Icy blue veins could be seen just below the surface.
Knelling on the edge, he caught his blurred reflection.
Previous images swept through his mind--
Dreams of gliding, gracefully sliding
from one side to the other.
Delicately slicing through the smooth, thin surface.
Severing connections, gloriously sailing
Instead
Stumbling, falling, failing
Barely conscious, awkwardly aching
lying on his back
under the iron sky
He grips the blade in his frozen hand
trying to mount his courage
Through tear filled eyes, he catches his blurred reflection
in the bathroom mirror.
The razor drops to the smooth white tile
as the wind howls against the motionless clouds.
copyright t. ewing
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