Hurry up, please; it's time

I remember standing on the Cliffs of Moher, looking out at the Aran islands. Was there a wind, or did the chill begin within me? So many dead fishermen. The water was deceptive. I thought of mothers keening and of warm sweaters turned to shrouds. They knew the bodies by the stitching. Men gave their lives to the sea and women gave their sons and their husbands and their hopes.

He stood laughing on the rocks, looking back towards me. The wind was as real as the spirit within him. I had so much to learn. The water reached toward him. I thought that I should reach like the water, eager for connection, alive with movement. I wanted to be known, even after. I wanted to give myself to him as he gave himself to the spirit as it moved over the waves and through his hair.

He stepped lightly off the rooks, looking out at the light. It sparkled suddenly on the water, bouncing as the waves bounced. So much light. I thought of spring mornings and of candles glowing on winter nights. It is hard to look at anything else, once a candle's flame catches your eye. I wanted to follow him across the water, bouncing like the light off the waves.

I remember standing on the rocks, knowing that thinking would not help me. The water that splashed over me was cold, cold as the fear washing over me. I would like to know him by his sweater, by the lines in the stitching. It is time to know him in myself, in my footsteps across the water. It is time to know myself in the bouncing of light across the waves. I breathe in the spirit around me, feel it on my skin and in my hair. My leg begins to move.

I watched him laughing on the water, far in front of me. I held his flame in my heart and noticed all its colours, felt it burning as I felt the cool of water underfoot.

a day at Ridgemount High School

1:47pm.

- I don't get why she's making us do this assignment. Like she wants to punish us or something. 

- Whatever, I'm just gonna finish it as fast as I can to annoy her more. She'll be so pissed. You're hair is so red today...

- Yeah, I dyed it a little. Like, I don't understand. This morning she wasn't being such a bitch but then after recess, she was, like, totally punishing us or something. Gawd. Hey, I like your new earrings? 

-I forgot to msn you about them last night! My dad came and took me to dinner. My mom wasn't thrilled about the last minute announcement, but I gave her my puppy dog look and she backed off.

-I love it when my mom visits on the weekend and we go shopping. one of the fridge benefits.

-Fringe.

-What about it?

-Huh?

-What about Fringe? Do you watch the show too?

-No, no. You were, like, fridge benefits...but the word is fringe. My dad always talks about his fringe benefits at work. He gets a manicure! I don't even get a manicure! Gawd.

-My mom said she'd get us a spa package for Christmas...pedicures, manicures, the works. Fringe, huh? With an 'e' at the end?

12:20pm.

-I don't get what their problem is. First they want to be deadbeat parents with their kids' education and now all of a sudden they want their kids to have more homework. You're a great teacher, Jessica. Don't let Cook make you believe otherwise.

-And he's looking at me like I'm the idiot! Like I am not doing enough!

-I don't get it. I really don't get it.

-I don't get it either, Paul, but I'm so pissed right now. One of their parents did this. They won't be happy when I drop that assignment I've been keeping in the bottom drawer on their heads.

12:04pm.

-I don't get why I'm being forced to give these kids more homework. They have enough as it is. They have other classes, you know.

-I know that and you know that, but I have received some concerns from parents that their kids are not getting enough homework.

-Well, I don't believe in overwhelming them either. You know that. If I give them too much then I'll lose them later on...they'll be out of energy later in the year.

-Please, don't resist on this one. Just find something that you can give them that's more substantial.

-Substantial? So what are you saying? I'm giving them fluff? That my class is a bird class? You're insulting my method?

-I'm not insulting you, Jessica. Just work with me on this one. There's pressure on all of us.

-You think? Thanks for giving me more to deal with. Now if you'll excuse me, I have 20 minutes for lunch and I've got to give these kids more work to do.

9:22am.

-Mr. Dawson...I must be honest with you. We have never received any complaints about the class being...too easy, as you put it. I don't get why you are bringing these concerns up?

-I'm not a Global news watcher, Principal Cook. I don't complain when my kids have too much homework like other deadbeat parents. My child will be ready for the real world, and she'll have the habits that I grew up with and you grew up with that brought us to our respective places in life.

-I appreciate where you are coming from. I can give you some resources that you and your wife  and your wife can use to supplement the education that Ms. Leeson is providing the class.

-No. My time is better served helping my kid with his homework, not finding busy work for him to do. My time is better served running the PTA and the football fundraiser. Wouldn't you agree?

-Well...I talk to Ms. Leeson about it. I'll see what I can do. I won't promise anything, you understand?

-I trust you'll do your best, Principal.

4:30pm.

-Dude, I don't get it. I was being all empathetic, and consoling, and understanding. She was pouring her heart out to me, and still I couldn't get the nerve to say to her, Let's talk about it over dinner. Why am I such a chicken-shit. Her nails are so manicured too. Don't laugh! I'm crazy about her nails and her dimples - sue me. I just don't get it bro....She's so hot. Argh!

exercise four - verbal & syntactical repetition

Rage – speak to me oh Muse, of the rage of the Author, chained to the poltergeist glow of his computer screen, bee to naked rose, abandoned ship to lighthouse, emptiness to emptiness, enraged at Circumstance and Necessity, thrashing upon the boundless sea of Language without a splintered board of gopher wood, deranged in his fruitless hope for salvation, lost beyond Loss, with a rage fanning out like the lashes of Apollo’s eye upon the dry tinder wood of his enraged heart, aflame with his lot, fallen from the gods’ graces, newborn without mother, leaf without tree, speech without audience, forced to travel through darkness to an unknown shore, a foreign country, with norms known only to Zeus, forced to sew the enraged thoughts cast upon all points of the world’s compass, fated to sooth the enraged cries of all those before him, the enraged pleas of those after him, compelled to silence the rage inside him unbeknownst to God, that eternal tear, oh Muse, cascading along the eternal cheek of his forever fragile Being.