It’s Not Communication but Secrecy That Some of Us Are Trying to Make a Point With

Each day after work I climb up into my attic apartment and feel safe from a world that sadly, looks to create opportunity out of either trying to kill others or incite them to kill one another.

I hide from a world where the nest of a well-protected office or an underground network of privilege, allows good plans to die at often the cost of innocents dying right along with them, casualties of an upside-down war where a bite from a serpent can look like a kiss from a hero.

I thought about this tonight after watching the news and specifically, a reporting of that awful tragedy in Highland Park where a 22-year-old male killed people with the all too familiar assault rifle. But found it difficult to balance being a poet who has to find a way to write about what’s personal and necessary and try to wake people up through that, starting with himself, while still remaining deeply understandable and necessarily discrete, with being a citizen who’s just angry and fed up with gun killings being so normal in America, and who just wants to fix it, or even say “guns” are the problem,

as if personification of them could somehow ease the burden on my not being able to do anything about them except complain, though complaints are powerful and poetic enough.

So, I took my shirt off to stay cold-blooded and sat at my writing desk until these words started to flow from a dream I had last night where a monitor lizard chased me up a tree, and where from the end of a branch of logic lizards are much better at balancing on and sticking to than I am, it was easy to imagine myself as a living adage illustrating how truly “The pen is mightier than the sword,” when it comes to communicating a point,

but while also illustrating while the lizard sunk itself into my ankle, that it’s not communication, but secrecy that the most reptile-brained of us are choosing to be mighty and make a point with.

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