Hugh Davis Farm Journals, UA Digital Collections

During class Monday, we had the pleasure of meeting the fine individuals who who manage and add to the UA Libraries Digital collections. Essentially what these people do is take many, many pictures of old artifacts, including portraits, old UA yearbooks, and in this case, farm journals from 1849, and scan them into an online database for research purposes.

Hugh Davis kept journals of his exploits on the form to keep a record for future reference. Below is an image scan of one of the pages from his 1849-1854 journal.

You may not be able to read the writing, but this entry is a "Sick List" showing when members of the Davis family got sick, what they had and how many days of work they missed. It seems the measles were rampant at the time.

The director of the Digital Collections said these journals would serve as a good look into  the weather patterns of the South when scientists studying Global Warming need to research a date preceding the forming of the National Weather Service. Interesting stuff.

A New Age?

Welcome JN 325!

In the past, this blog has been a creative outlet for me. There are a lot of poems and prose on here dating all the way back to my senior year in high school. However, I thought it might be interesting to go ahead and revamp things on this page a little with the content that I will be posting for JN 325 at UA. Hopefully my visits to this page to post 325 content will force me to begin re-posting the material this blog housed originally. I must say I have missed the discussions this blog used to generate.

Thanks for stopping by.

Wayne

Confident in my Disclosure

Confident in my Disclosure


I'm trying to
re-place myself.

This one part of me
just knows
that a change in scenery
will prove beneficial.


I'm wanting to see it.

You.
There.
With me close behind.

I'd do my best
to hear your whispered conversation...
and fight my mind
from wandering
back to conversations
regarding obvious responsibility
with my father.

So much of our word barter
derived its quality from
how my nervous ears
interpreted
(so do aesthetics come into play now?)
his tone.

That can't be what this is like.
(I won't let it.)

Covering myself with branches,
(I don't want you to know I'm watching.)
that impulsive side
tickles my ear canals
with the "guarantee"
of positive results--
full of themselves
and thoughts
of futhering me in this
struggle.

Confident in my disclosure,
I decide for a better view.

I can feel your tension.
(all the way from here)

If you would allow it...
I would rush from my entrenchment
and gather those
crimson sprinters
(following the gun-shot protocol)
escaping from your pores
into these tiny
cotton balls I found
and
squeeze

them into this

broken baby

bottle.


And that's when the party will start.

(I hope to God that's lipstick on your cheek.)




Good Providence

As You Wish

HEY!!!
here's a poem.

As You Wish

And so it's a beautiful day in Tuscaloosa...
So why can't I see it?
It's because my mind is where you are...
I've spent so many hours(days,months,years)
thinking of what you might be seeing,
hatefully jealous of whoever it is
you're seeing it with.

Darling,
where are you hiding?

Tears seem to be attracted to my eyes
much like heavy magnets,
stuck, but destined
to fall.
Words,
(that I would use to bring you to me faster)
have not found this attraction.
It seems that they are
not aware of me, my
guilt and obvious need are obviously
not
obvious enough.

In dreams I am tormented by
possible forms,
(my brain is eager to assign your eyes a curve, a color, a smile)
but as soon as I am awake
I forget even the imposters.

(If I can't hold you, I would settle for your likeness,
protected by gloss.)

Where ever you may be,
I can feel how protective of me you are.
You know me better now,
than I will ever know myself in the future
(and this includes my weaknesses)
aand for that,
my love is owed to you in the heaviest measure.

My sword is sheethed in a finer
metal than its body,
etched with memories of you
that I have yet to grasp.
In battle,
it is quick to find destraction from this conquest,
and quickly end its life,
cutting in precise angles.

Its role as weapon will cease
on the day it is laid at your feet
as tribute to the promise.

But still,
I am smitten by your eminent beauty,
racing toward me as sure as
forgiveness.


And that is why I wait.



Good Providence

Pssst....I'm Right Behind You

GREETINGS!!!!

Wow. Been a really really long time huh?

Well this is a little post to let you know that I'm back...
and better than ever.

Now that I have my WWW conncection back I'll be bringing this dilapidated blog back to life.

So keep stopping by and I promise to have stuff to read for you.

Love you guys,
Wayne



Good Providence

Louder Now...Louder

So what I meant to ask was
"How Does It Feel To Be a Ghost?"
I just wanna get the fact across that I never wanted to be a "Liar."
I'm gonna "Makedamnsure" it can't ever happen like this.
But you know what we're "Up Against".
"My Blue Heaven" Looks so far away from here...
Sometimes it seems the "Twenty-Twenty Surgery" that comes only from the miracle of hindsight is the only thing worth holding out for.
And meanwhile we "Spin"...
In these days and times "Divine Intervention is a must
or the entire world will end up on "Miami" beach...
Because most of us will end up with a title that resembles something like
"Error: OPERATOR."
Thankfully,
and lucky for us, we hear a familiar voice...
"I'll Let You Live."

Happy Taking Back SunDAY

poem...
really soon

With Every Year We Live, We Live Through the Day We Will Die...And Have No Clue of It's Power

Hey everyone...
Hopefully I'll have a poem for Easter up on Sunday...
But for now here's some Emery to get you started...
They really get the Christian life...
Awesome stuff and incredibly encouraging for Good Friday...
Happy Good Friday by the way...
The story comes to an end on Sunday...
It finishes anyway.



"Under Serious Attack"

(the Bold parts are the focus)


you've taken this too far
now it has to stop
you've taken this too far

once again
the table's turned
and i'm behind
picking up the pieces from the night

my face is scarred
sometimes
i feel that i can't trust myself at all

and every time the sky
(every time the sky)
breaks open with sunshine
as streaming swords collide
(streaming swords collide)
it takes me back in time

i float away
to another place
where heaven is waiting
right outside

this is war
can I take it anymore? (can I take it anymore?)
i'm falling faster and bleeding more
than i have bled before
certain death (this blade will carve a purpose)
lingers on the other hand (and make you feel defeated)
but i will fight you
and victory will be mine in the end

circumstances mean nothing
when it's over
we will be
heroes constantly
pushing forward without any fear

if i erased the line between
forgotten days and memories
i'd never change

resolution made in vain
to face (to play out) the day
life is yours to save (save it)
or take (take it) away

Dang It Feels Good To Be a Gangsta

...

My. ears. won't. stop. ringing.
I smell like beer...
but I didn't drink any.
My HEAD IS POUNDING.
It's three two nine a,m,
I'm slightly damp from sweating...
and I just stood around.

Sigma Alpha Epsilon will rock all nite


long.

To Robert Baldwin Rose in Appreciation in Affection...

To Robert Baldwin Rose in appreciation in affection...




"Friends,"
Romans,
"Lend me your ears."

Gather 'round.
I want everyone to see this.


This skin,
attatched to this arm,
attatched to this hand,
that has finger painted in the style
of crime scenes,
held in mind with
the afterthought of
form, the history of
image...

I play the part well...
I only recently began acting.

Maybe its the taste
this lipstick water gives
(Death)
that makes me act like this...

Why do I entertain the thoughts of
failure, hopelessness, and shadows?

Why do I question?

Why,
with your sovereignty,
do I find the strength in my limbs to,
over the course of
19
years,
find a gun,
load it,
press it to my
peripheral
(perception. what a joke.)
and flirt with the trigger

like a drunk with a virgin?

Why do I care?

Why am I here,
alive in this bed,
at this second,
with a front row seat to
the rest of my life?

My life=
The longest death scene
the business has ever seen.

Why do I question?

And seriously,
what's the point?
You know.
Of guilt?

What is the point of guilt
when it can be so easily
overcome by the prospect of
murdering again?

Why are You with me
but not my vision?

How can You hold me,
but not my hands?

How can You acquit me,
when my heart is the
incriminating evidence?



Incompatibility is the name of this game.

Love does not equal nature.
Grace does not equal earned.
Faith does not equal logic.

How can You speak
to me
when I am doing all
of the talking?




This was the sound of my heart attempting suicide.

Mistakes Disguised as Goodbyes

Hi everyone.

I deleted my last post:
1. Because I was in no state to post ANYTHING at the time that I posted.
2. Because I let my emotions get the best of me.
3. Because I let a form of self-expression, or a way to vent for myself, be posted as truth.
4.I let down poetry.

That last poem was not Good.

There was no absolute Truth and there was no Beauty of any kind in this poem. I hurt this site when I put the thing up. I thought that maybe it would be read as a point of view and not truth. But as a Journalism student who knows that people usually believe what they read, I should have known better. And this is not the readers fault by any means.

To be perfectly honest, I wrote that poem when I was angry and used this blog as a weapon.

And that's wrong.
No matter what happened beforehand, if I was really wronged and completely justified in everything I said (which I wasn't) no one deserves to be attacked in the fashion in which I attacked.

What is even more sad is that I used my words as a dagger. Which as everyone knows, are the sharpest of small swords.


Bottom line. That poem was not the whole story, which on any other occasion, would have been my first priority to tell. It was unfair to the parties involved and for that I am truly sorry.

I feel that what I wrote is not my real feelings. But they seem to be the only feelings I am aware of. But that's only becuase a lack of communication. But instead of just calling and talking to my friends or saying these feelings to thier faces, I took the easy way out and put that thing up.

I acted out of the fear of things never being fixed. I guess I see this as a cry for help for our friendships. People took notice and now that we have hit the absolute bottom of things, we can start to rebuild. I just wish it could have happened another way. But there's no use in that becuase things only happen ONE way.

I'm praying that event though I have done something wrong, something good will come of this.

Reconciliation mostly. And a better line of communication to my friends.

What is happening to us guys?

I can remember when we thought this sort of thing would never happen to us and now here we are on the verge on NEVER talking.

But nonetheless, this one was all me. I did something wrong and now I'm apologizing. And I'm hoping, but certainly not deserving of, a little grace.

I made a mistake but I promise that by the end of this week I will have done everything in my power to not only fix this, but fix the cause of all this.


Regardless of anything that happens.

I love my friends. I would do anything for them. Haha. Even admit that I'm wrong. Which, for me, would definately be a bigger fear for me than taking a bullet for someone anyday.

I know we're not in high school anymore and that things can't be the same as they used to be.

But I still want our friendships to be as strong as they used to be.

We have come through alot of stupid things together. The fact that we came out of high school with our sanity in tact is attributed to the fact that we STUCK TOGETHER.

I have never cared more about a group of people more than I care about you guys. I have shared the happiest moments of my life with you and this poem came out at a time when I saw all of that going away.






and I'm sorry.

Asprin for a Younger Generation

Long time no see huh?

My bad.

Asprin for a Younger Generation

1989.
The Rubix rage is all but over.
And I,
a child
hadn’t a clue.
Fumbling around with my
Rainbow box
(promises are a large part of an infant life)
having no idea of its purpose,
it seemed to me that my
cube was perfect
as it was
in its unsolved state.
Not perfectly square,
with its rounded plastic corners
from constant
falling
from my immature grip
on the situation,
each side of my
puzzle
had lost some of
its meaning with
each scratch infested
colored square.
Twisting and turning,
my small hands,
convinced they were
mastering the cube’s
weakened joints,
only to find another
thousand turns necessary;
my fingers would run
along the ever-shifting
dusty canyons
that gave the box its face.
Faces.
Red and Yellow,
Blue and White,
Trials of all colors,
Colors my flesh would
come to know as “friends.”
Colors rubbed faded
by greasy little hands
which had been
God

Knows

Where.

Good Providence

Correction

WAIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I changed my mind about where I'm hosting the new blog...

It's not at that ugly Xanga thing.

It's here...

Harbors of Contention

Evaluation

poem...

Everyone Is Trying To Kill Me
(and I'm not just making that up.)

Everyone is trying to kill me.
And I'm not just making that up.
It is the

God is Honest

truth.

They disguise themselves as these
things called "friends"
and then convince you that
they're yoUR best.
(well, if you're my best, go ahead and pull that trigger cause I don't wanna live to know an enemy.)
But, these are things you've never had before
so you figure they can't be worse than many.

But you've underestimated their artillery.

Ever since a friend kissed his brother on the cheek
(usually, in their day, a simple hello)
the most famous and horrible goodbye in our history
would be served...
and the weapons grew one by one.

These weapons are many but very much the same.
You'll never see them coming because they start
with knowing the person's name.
Memories are the biggest gun that this army packs,
they'll bring them out in the biggest battles
and use them to organize secret attacks.

They make the past an enemy camp,
(once you get there you're surrounded)
and they make the future one big mine field.
(always "Watch your step.")

Casualties number greatest there.
There,
where you know you've already stood.

....................

ATTENTION!
I AM MAKING A NEW BLOG AND FILLING IT WITH ALL OF MY FAITH OBSERVATIONS THAT I HAVE BEEN WRITING DURING MY QUIET TIMES AND HOPING TO UPDATE IT EVERYDAY. FOR THE TIME BEING THAT SITE WILL BE MY XANGA SITE THAT I HAVE LINKED ON HERE...

www.xanga.com/waynegrayson

Good Providence

I AM A Lazy Blogger

Hey.

Sorry for not doing anything for about a month but I have a dial -up connection at home and it was too much of a hassle to post...

anyway...

So for the report on Narnia...

I don't really want to say too much in case you haven't seen it (if you haven't drop what you are doing and go see it right now) but here goes...

First off, the movie rocked in regards to following the book. If there were a race between the LOTR trilogy and this movie in following their respective books, Narnia wins every time. There were only a few instances in which the movie added things in dramatic license such as the whole wolves catching up to the children at one point thing and Peter acting like a pansy and not killing the wolf. That is one thing that I disliked about the film. Much like how the biblical Peter is the rock of Christ's new Church, Peter is the foundation of Aslan's new kingdom of a broken table. The movie portays Peter as very frightened and shaky of his huge responsibility. And, much of the time he takes this weight out on Edmund, another exaggeration the movie made. Alot of Edmund's trechery seemed to be placed on Peter's shoulders in the film and that is absurd and completely unsupported by the book.So far I've made more negative comments than positive but I just want those who haven't read the book to understand some the discrepancies. One last negative. When Aslan returns in the book the first thing he does is tell the children to cover their ears and then delivers a deafening roar. Which he did in the movie. But then, he tells the children to "try and catch" him. This didn't happen at all in the movie. I found this very unfortunate becuase this is one of my most favorite depictions that Lewis gives us of Christ. Aslan, knowing that a battle is being fought in his name by a mere boy first plays with Lucy and Susan. Think about the necessity of this. Christ's purpose in coming to earth was to make man, an impure and fallen creature, tangible to God, a Holy and completely pure being, so that man could share an intimate relationship with God through Christ our bridegroom. Since the fall this intimacy was not possible becuase God will not defile himself with anything unholy. But God loves this creature, this Man so much that he decides to come to earth and WALK AMONG US. And not only that, but endure the most humiliating death...

just so He could hold us.

Now, in the story, up to this point there was no playfullness in Aslan and the childrens' relationship. It was kept to a very serious tone about a very serious business. But here after Aslan's resurrection, he says, "Catch me if you can." Wow. Lewis describes thier playing for nearly two pages. It's sheerly beautiful and the movie leaves it out.

Now for the cool parts. I loved the way that Adamson drew a few parallels. First, the parallel between ancient and modern warfare. In the very beginning of the movie we see bomber planes attacking London. Then in the battle scene we see the Eagles bombing the Witch's army with large boulders. Brilliant. Also another thing I saw was the way Peter held his sword. I overheard a few cracks about this by some people after the movie the first time I saw it but they were obviously stupid so oh well. I thought it was awesome the way he held his sword. Listen, the boy is growing up in London during a war. What weapon was used by ground troops in the World Wars? DUH. GUNS. NOT SWORDS. So how is he supposed to know how to hold this sword. Plus he hadn't been in Narnia long enough for the slow transformation of maturity that always occurs to children entering Narnia to take hold. He's holding that sword how he has seen soldiers hold guns. Now, isn't that awesome? The second cool parallel I found was Adamson's parallel of Tumnus and Edmund. In one scene I realized how these two are so much ailke. They are both traitors of their race. And, more importantly, they are incredibly valiant once they realize they are wrong and do two of the most graceful 180s that you've ever seen. That scene that I mentioned was when Ed steps on Tumnus' father's portrait when they find his house ransacked after his capture and I remembered that Ed went back in the house in the beginning to get his father's picture before the house was bombed.
Other cool stuff was the great detail to the battle that you really didn't get to the book and the extra attention given to the childrens' lives in London prior to coming to Professor Kirke's house. Also Aslan looked AMAZING.
If anything this movie enhances one's reading of the book. The film didn't make up things that were too out there, it only took Lewis' established ideas and went deeper into them instead of running away from the message of the book. Andrew Adamson gets a huge tip of the hat for this one.

So there was my opinion on Narnia.

I have a few poems I've been working on so they will hopefull be up shortly.

Classes start tomorrow.

Pray for me.



Good Providence

I Made A Promise I Couldn't Refuse

Hey everybody.

Sorry but contrary to what I said there won't be a report on Narnia...

Unitl I see it again.

For me to in any way start to write about the GLORY that I saw the first time I HAVE TO SEE IT AGAIN. Which I will in a few days when I head home.

Everyone, I ask that you do me a HUGE favor and pray for me because tomorrow, (Thursday) I have two really hard finals. Western Civ and Mass Communication. I will be so glad when I'm done but I will appreciate some prayer.

I'm coming home Friday around noon so I'll be in town from about 4 that afternoon til about the 9th (I think) of January.

OH YEAH.

Before I forget....

WAYNE HAS A XANGA!!!!!
(confetti)

Yeah, check it out and see if you like the color scheme.
http://www.xanga.com/waynegrayson

Anyway...Mass Com book awaits...

College is soooo....

College.



Good Providence

"Aslan? Why,... don't you know? He's the King."

Grettings friends.

Ok, so I'm sure like me you're all jumping out of your skin for the glory that will be Narnia in movie form that will grace our eyes starting tomorrow.

I'm definately preparing myslef to be rocked.

Hard.

So in the celebration of anticipation here's a song by our friends Relient K.

I haven't been a huge fan of theirs until recently.

Recently meaning until they released their Apathetic Ep.
It's great.
Go buy it.
But don't steal it.
Nick is gay for that.
Anyway.

Here's the song that was inspired by The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
Wish I could figure out some way to put the audio file up here so you could listen. But if anyone wants to hear it just gimmie your email and i'll get it to you through the wonder that is techonology.

"In Like A Lion (Always Winter)"

It's always nice to look out the window
And see those very first few flakes of snow
And later on we can go outside
And create the impression of an angel
that just fell from the sky

When February rolls around
I'll roll my eyes
Turn a
cold shoulder
to these even colder skies
And by the fire
my heart it heaves a sigh
For the green grass waiting on the other side

It's always winter
but never Christmas
It seems this curse just can't be lifted
Yet in the midst of all this ice and snow
Our hearts stay warm cause they are filled with hope.

It'd be so nice to look out the window
And see the leaves on the trees begin to show
The birds would congregate and sing
A song of birth
a song of newer things
The wind would calm and the sun would shine

I'd go outside and
I'd squint my eyes
But for now I will simply just withdraw
Sit here
and wait
for this world to thaw

And everything it changed overnight
This dying world you brought it back to life
And deep inside I felt things
Shifting
everything was melting
Away oh away
And you gave us the most beautiful of days

Cause when it's always winter
but never Christmas
Sometimes it feels like you're not with us
But deep inside our hearts we know
That you are here and we will not lose hope

SO there. It's awesome huh? Staples would be proud.
You can definately expect a report on the movie.
Much Love

Good Providence

Photography

"Photography"
by The Starting Line

I've never been so happy
to see a photograph of me
then when graced with your company.

You're making a small change to the way
that you wear your heart.
I like it better...I like it... I like it better now

I'll swing from a streetlight
as I will sing oh, oh, oh
I'm stuck in the meantime
but we're so oh, oh, oh close

The sunlight's overwhelming the scene
that's composed of you and me in our finest moment.
An amazing illusion was made with trick photography
it seems like you're really...you're really...
it seems like you're really here.

I'll swing from a streetlight
as I will sing oh, oh, oh
And I'm stuck in the meantime
but we're so oh, oh, oh close

I'm grilled by a spotlight
And sing oh, oh, oh
we're still in the meantime
but we're oh so, oh so close.

I'll swing from a streetlight
and sing oh, oh, oh
And I'm stuck in the meantime
but we're so oh, oh, oh close
we're so close.
we're so close.

REVISION!

Hey everyone. I revised swimming clothes for my english class. The revision is below this post. Please check it out. THERE ARE MAJOR CHANGES!!!!!

good ones though

GOOD PROVIDENCE

Soaked

LIKE I SAID. IT'S REVISED! TELL ME IF YOU LIKE THE CHANGES OR HOW THEY AFFECTED YOUR THOUGHTS.


Swimming Clothes



Missing the point…

An empty aisle,
as far as you could see.
A golden carpet highway
to the beach of my insides.
A street of gold
paved in Berber,
the fibers tainted
the result of the heavy traffic
of unwashed feet.

So, I wasn’t driving, right?
(Immaturity enhanced by a lack of depth perception
and a crippling amnesia always means the same thing.)
Passenger side,
front seat,
brand new eyes absorbing
brand new sites
and the faces of
the rest of
the Body
of drivers.

Little did I know,
that the highway gets lonely,
exits look appealing,
and the next thing you know,
you’re at a gas station
in Memphis
asking directions
from someone born thousands of miles away
from here.

Or anywhere that you’re going for that matter.

That’s why carpooling makes sense.

(Tangents will be the life of me.)

With signs in sight,
(billboards supporting the driver's decision...)
my mother gets excited,
and assures my Father,
they’re happy tears.

Everyone wanted them to leave me at home.

“He can’t even swim.
What if he hates the water, or
drowns?
You’ll never forgive yourself.
He’ll be
more guilty of not swimming than if
he had never gotten wet.”

Smiling,
Dad replies,
“Well, we like the water. It’s a risk we’re willing to make.”



Looking snazzy…

My brand new swimming clothes adorned,
I’m foreshadowing in the flesh;
dressed in the water’s hopeful effect.

Wish I could see my feet.

My dad parks the car the same way he always does.
from the Right.
NOT THE lEFT.
From the car I see the beach.
I am in awe.
My parents don't take notice
because
I
"always have that look on my face."

Finding the end of the
black
pavement's grip
that quickens my parents' steps,
I notice their feet being invaded by
white.
It appears to be
dirt,
but the substance is much
too clean to be
dirt.

I resolve that what It is,
is what I have been missing.

The water’s edge approaches
and as the echoing waves’
song of visibility
rings clearer and clearer,

everything stops.

No one is talking and
(except for the occasional excited whisper)
all have left the cool of the water
to witness me shiver for the first time.

And they’re smiling.

Clutching to my mother’s summer dress,
I am overtaken by a sudden
wariness of my new surroundings.
Tears begin to form behind my
ignorant eyes,
drenching my ever-moistened eye lashes
and streaking my cheeks
with a
Rose-
red embarrassment.

Feeling the shake of reluctance in my mother's arms
I find myself pushed toward a new face.

I notice his swimming clothes.

Faded black
from his constant immersion
in the salty,
and the drying warmth of the beach’s
direct sunlight,
they hang loosely around
his weathered but chisled
swimmer's frame.

He gathers me in,
holds me as his own,
and speaks to my embarrassment
in a low whisper.

One that no one but he and I can hear.
The kind of whisper that makes you feel guilty for not listening more.

“I swim Here all the time.
You’re going to love It.”

Leading me down to the water’s edge,
His grip is firm.

The current doesn’t have a chance against him.
Waiting to drown,
waiting to be taken into the
depths
of the abyss,
I, unable to control myself,
find a way,
in this safest of places,
to let my ignorance outweigh his
experience and ability
Cupping his right hand,
he dips it shallowly
and brings up a palm full
of quickly fleeting water.
He smiles softly
and runs his steady hand over my head.

Still sobbing,
I feel the ocean’s saline as it sprints,
like a friend with Good News,
down my forehead,
meeting with my tears
on a pale,
fleshy dance floor.

As husband and bride,
They dance.

The waltz marks completion.
......


Looking snazzy…
My brand new engagement ring
shines with a luster
that echoes its price.



Engaged.
With no knowledge of love.


So there you have it. Let me know what you think.

.epoHoNevahllitsew
Good Providence

For Myself

Here's the new poem. Think of this as a sequel for the last one. This poem also has a second part which I have the concept for drawn out but I haven't inked but a few of the first lines yet. Anyway, here it is.

Granted For Taken

Thirsty whores.

With bodies free
from the briuses of stones.

Dressed in white.
With veils
that mask empty eyes,
obtuse noses,
and snarling,
cherry-red lipstick smeared,
lips,
with tongues bent around the sharpest of lies.

Bleeding through the grin of crooked teeth.

Blood-stained gowns.

The result of unsuccessful attempts at
dry
cleaning
and nervous hands;
Pushing down the tide of guilt,
Scraping clean the palms
that placed knives
into the new homes and warmth
of innocent chest cavities.

Scraping...

Acting as if they had never bathed.

As if they had never been bathed.

Born again
strangers
to bath tubs and bakeries;
filled with a self consciousness
which fuels a hostile
bulemia.

(They all think you're fat.)

Losing pounds and gaining weight...

The results are taste buds
well acquainted with the flavor
of stomach acid
and unfamiliar with water's texture.

Sour,
tearing away at the esophogus
with each fruitful heave,
half-digested grape juice and crackers
exit through the mouths they entered
spurned on by gluttonous hands
which now profane
the blood of a promise
with two fingers down
infected throats
that have professed guilt,
which have sung,
"Once was blind,
now I see."

See
the timing with which
they step.
A beat disguised by the
Christmas Gift
of new shoes.

They put them on every
Sunday morning.

But through the week,
they wear bare feet,
collecting the dirt
that lies between the fibers of carpet
covering the bedroom floors of their many lovers.

The only layer they never remove.

Bearers of an old disease,
passed on for generations,
they constantly ingest a drug
to which they were given a perscription
with unlimited refills.

These pills they swallow
are stored in a bottle
with a sticker bearing instructions:

TAKE (WITH WATER)
ONLY WHEN NEEDED

and a warning:

CONSISTENT USE
MIGHT CAUSE ADDICTION

With this in mind
they surround themselves with bacteria
and,
with the aid of cheap wine,
turn what was meant to be a medication,
into an Immunity Cocktail.

Strengthening sickness with the antidote...

Strung out,
rising from the bloody pools
that have consumed their bathroom floors,
they stand
(somehow)
to meet their reflections in
drug cabinets.

Doing their best
to rub out mascara streeks
from moistened cheeks,
the make-up is removed.

An ugly face remains.

A life that can no longer be
painted by
nail polish and hairbrushes
is revealed.

There is nothing left.

Falling
to recieve their deserved destiny,
their bodies never touch
the cold tiles of the floor.

Instead,
unmarked arms wrap around their torsos,
lifting them so they might carry on.

The Husband
gently strokes his wife's unclean hair
and kisses her softly on her cheek.
(as she had done when walking out the door.)

He says:

"I know where you've been.
You've been running again.
Let's get you cleaned up,
put your shoes on,
(we'll double knot them this time)
and go out for dinner.
I bought you a beautiful white dress.
It's similar to the one you used to have.
Do you remember?"


.epoHenOevahllitsew
Good Providence