another life, not televised, and union

Recorded at the YMCA Metro Central on November 2, 2005

Recommended

Blind Man View

What is it that a blind man sees? Without his sight, does it make him free? After all how can he get hurt if he can’t witness pain, How can he love if he can’t see what love contains? Fingers upon curvatures, a choice to see what’s bad Not knowing the difference between what he has and what he had Because if he can’t see what’s come and what’s left him behind Then he doesn’t know a piece is missing, not wishing to rewind But if he can’t see the bad, how will he be secure? Read a face with fingertips but someone’s heart he can’t be sure? So what exactly does a blind man see? Blots of colour, or a smudge spree? Does he see any outlines, or nothing at all? Discoloured pupils, running into walls . . .

a visit

I know nothing about mining, but am from a mining town, have listened to the men snowball space for eighteen years, cultivate houses and children and four-wheelers in the spun out jade vines of their palms . . .