Monday, September 22, 2008


There is always a stone
in the pocket
of my jeans.

It changes each day
depending on what I want.

Some days
I wear my skinny jeans
and I search my room
for the black black rock
that I know lives somewhere
close by
and when I find it
I squeeze it tight
like that
so it hurts
and my hair falls
over my face
as I slide it
into the pouch
so it can come
with me
all day long.

Some days
I need the tear catcher
which was given to me
by a girl who had it made
special for me and all my tears.

It's aboriginal dreaming rock
painted and everything.

She went up north
and brought it back to me
just before she left me
which you know
I can see the kindness in
I guess
and the funny thing is
the rock split in two
when I filled it with tears
and I wonder if that meant
I was over her
or if the rock
rather than have to keep
listening to my crap.

Anyway I still carry that rock
when I'm sad.
At least it knows me.

The third thing I carry
isn't a rock
it's an acorn.

Mornings when I reach for the acorn
I'm either hopeful
or desperate
but I'm not saying
"Hey Acorn
sort this shit out"
I wouldn't ever ask that of the acorn.

It's more a case of
the acorn
reminding me
that Hope and Desperation
belong in the dirt

the bullshit that feeds
the real push up
into the light.

That's right
little acorn,
I say.

And I slip
all that potential
into my pocket
as I walk out into the day.

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