What if, after waking up to the realization that you’ve got everything you ever wanted, having beaten what you always wanted to beat, you further grow up and realize that, fulfillment, while sort of getting rid of suffering, can’t get rid of your pain or take what traumas still stick to the insides of your body away? I asked myself this tonight, on my walk home from work as I waited at a crosswalk for it to signal that I could limp in a straight line, admiring the random seagulls flying over my favorite Crab Rangoon making establishment Man Yee, and how they would be perfect in a moody monochromatic watercolor painting in steel greys, but also perfect in a grotesque, providing you painted them inside out from having barely survived the gnashing blur of a growling plane propeller. Which to be honest, is how I feel these days, my arms and legs trying to stay attached, my face withdrawing into itself like a sea anemone, my spirit pulling itself down the roads and across the fields, while my body still manages to look like me standing here, asking what’s up with a smile on its face and a twinkle in its eye, like a real pleasant and lucky guy who made it and then some.
Published by Chris Russell
Hi, I'm Chris, and thank you so much reader for visiting my blog and wanting to learn a little bit about me. I know time is a hot commodity these days, more so now than ever I think, which is why it’s my hope that you make it a priority to read my poems under some low light when you have some time on your hands and can really read and reread them closely and experience something shining in them. It’s my sincerest hope that they make you want to look at yourself, your world, and poetry itself a little differently, while they also encourage you to be more kind and gentle with yourself and others. I know when I read a poem, regardless of its subject, I expect to feel asked in and touched by its speaker. Sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn’t. That’s the way it goes, right? It would be great though if some of these poems brushed against you. As for when I write, it’s always my intention to lift and exteriorize more understandably complex emotions and states of consciousness I’m currently experiencing, and it's usually through an analysis and highly conscious reframing of my childhood that this happens, though I’ve been known to veer into writing surreal-like absurdism and allegorical prose poetry when the wind splits me that way. Where am I on the planet? This MFA in Writing fossil with an ever expanding Dad bod now lives and works in Concord, New Hampshire where I currently divide much of my time between writing, blogging, assisting middle school students who have special needs, and navigating the journey that is my own really unimpressive, but no less valuable dark night. From my own cave in the wilderness, I’d like to say thanks again for stopping by and spending some of your invaluable time. I invite you to please put your feet up and subscribe for a while, and if you’re feeling moved by one of my poems please share it with a dear friend, preferably someone who doesn’t like poetry. View all posts by Chris Russell