page 78

the whole is this book.

we---are this book.

i fold it open down the middle binding.

i am six chapters in.

under the rim of lamp light

i read the black ink

of the last sentence i wrote:

"Lovers always think but

love has never thought at all;

what love is it does,

and doing involves maximum instinct

and minimal philosophy."

the pages You claimed are blank;

my fingers are crying.

they beg me to stop.

Let love write itself.

:::

"my husband and i have
this thing we do. he's thirty three
and i'm thirty. we've had hard days
or weeks and we fight every now and then.
but i think we are happy even
when we get stressed and upset because
we do---these little things. [laughs]
he doesn't want me to say it but since you asked
i will. so we have this thing where we do
snow angels. not just in the snow [laughs] but
any time of the year. sometimes we
do them on our living room floor---i guess
those are called carpet angels. [laughs].
or we do them in the fall in the leaves---
even if we're in public. we don't care.
we do them anywhere. it looks ridiculous
but we know what they mean...one time---
we had a relatively serious fight and
it'd had been a stressful day for both of
us at work so in the middle of it---
i smiled a little bit at him and slowly dropped
to the floor and started making snow angels
on our kitchen floor. [laughs]. yeah, he looked
angry at first but then he started laughing
and got down and started doing them with me.
that was when we understood what they meant.
happy or sad we do them...we just give each
other a certain look and drop to ground
making our snow angels.

...oh, we do them because it reminds us
that life is more innocent than we realize
and that things are ok or are going to be ok.

...yeah it brings out the kid in you for sure!
doing stuff like making our snow angels
doesn't keep us happy---i would actually say
it keeps us joyful because you feel good
a lot longer than if you were just happy
for a moment."

:::

Your signs speak and make others notice.

Yes, however.

Your hearts speak what must no longer
be bound---
tied up---
bloodied---
gentrified---
bladed by the axe of hopelessness---
dehumanized!

I hear your hearts. It is a music that bends
under the weight of anger's fist---and of strife.

Loudly, you do not weep. No.
Loudly, you cry and you shout.

Disruption is not a ripple in the pond of complacency,
disruption is more. Much more!
It is defiance!

Do not singly defy with your voice.
Defy the wrongs
with many more of your rights---
your individualities---
your character---
your actions by day and by night!

What is your purpose after you walk?
You will throw away your signs,
but never through away your message!

In the forest fire of degradation,
lay water down on the flames.
Go further.
Be the power of an annual rain!

Keep the soil most!
Grow the forest green!
A single drop cannot deter the fury and the flames.

Make yourselves a hundred thousand strong.
Two hundred thousand more and counting!

Fall down and pour with your numbers
until there is no choice

but for the inferno to slumber.

:::

with all that i have,

i can.