The Man Who Could Never Settle Down (Falling of the Face of the Earth)

"Where do you go when you fall off the face of the earth?"
I've been asked this question
many times,
many different ways.

I've never been able to stay in love for too long
with places, ideas, or women.

But now that I'm working
an average of twelve hours a day
every day of the week
with a migrant worker's pay

my hands are slowly scarring
callousing over the old

mi español está mejorando

I've returned to my folks farm.

I had forgotten

how bales of hay find their way into work boots

how much brighter the stars shine in the country sky

how well dark, moist soil soothes my aching fingers

I may be here for a while before I hit the road again.

The crops must be planted.

The orchard must be pruned.

The chicken coop must be built

In Greenhouses After Sunset (Translucent Lightbulbs, Brighter Futures)

with new seasonal work
comes new experience and insight
15 hours spent
first day on the job

after the sun disappeared
i was surrounded by the same verdure
but the atmosphere had been altered
translucent lightbulbs
shone dimly

my brother and i were only silhouettes
as we spoke of our brighter future

To Leave My City Behind, To Return to The Home of my Childhood Dreams

Circumstance has had it that
I've decided to move back
to my folks farm out here near the lake

to take steps toward progressing my future
to spend time with my dearest mother
to come closer to myself and The Almighty
to live a more simple life until The Departure

I arrived home this evening
The power was out
I gathered wood and made a fire to heat the little orchard house
My brothers and I made dinner in the dark

Father, Mother, Benjamin, Daniel, and I
We gathered around the dinner table
Our faces lit by the flickering lantern

The lights came on near the end of our meal
We turned them off and played a game of scrabble

The house is full
My youngest brother is reading
The middle brother is snoring
We are all here
All is well

Originally Titled "An Unlikely Return to A Philosophical Prison"

Some communication had been rekindled between some old friends from college and this weekend seemed to fit perfectly into my own freedom-laden hands. To the road it was.

I got off of work and started my two day weekend with my thumb on the side of the 94 on-ramp.

I always have a certain amount of doubt as to if I'll make it all of the way to my destination. I have faith but always brushed with a certain amount of practicality. Plan B is always circling in my head. Who to call?

Nonetheless, as always, I managed to pull it off. Thank you, everyone. May The Almighty bless you all, as I told the last driver who dropped me off in Berrien Springs.

As I walked the length of campus, memories began to flood me. Some good, some bad. It always seemed a somber, joyless institution to me. The sun had never seemed to shine (although I'm sure it had most of the time) on the isolated, prison-like university. I had been told that the best days of my life were ahead of me at college. That I would meet my life partner here. None of this happened. In fact, the spark of life that I once exhibited had been doused in these buildings, in these halls. To join such a shamelessly insincere student body that wore a smile for all of the cameras. To witness classmates binge drinking one night and returning to campus in the morning for church service. To hear the testimonies of those claiming to live the example that Christ Jesus had set while not showing the slightest sign of a loving character.*

But alas, the weekend continued and I found myself being asked the question by a new friend, "How does it feel to return?"

"I'm at peace with myself and this place now, after all these years," I answered.

Closure had ocurred. I no longer recoiled at the thought of Andrews University. It was my alma mater. That was all.

And along with the gift of my newly-amended opinion, much time was spent reminiscing of the delinquent activities that we, mostly I, had been involved with.

Stealing bikes and taking them down the highway.
Burning old textbooks on top of the roof of a building that was soon to be demolished.
Streaking across campus on October 10, 2010 at 10:10 p.m.
Convincing a bartender to give us all free drinks when most of us were underage.
Having my room searched/torn apart for drugs by the campus "security".
Spending a night in the women's dormitory (Same-sex dorms only on campus).
"Theft with malicious intent" of a stop sign in a slow-traffic mall.
Getting arrested, thrown in a cop car, finger printed, photographed, and tossed in a holding cell.
Breaking my foot in three places on a long board.
Soothing the pain with the high-dosage painkillers that I had been selling at the time.

ETC ETC ETC.

Thank you for the amazing times, Andrews.
Most of which you will never know and chances are would never hope to.
I am no longer the young punk that I was, but I am not yet the man that I will be.
Nonetheless, I will remember these times for the rest of my life.

The Imposter That I Am

Throughout my day-to-day I seem to counterfit brand-new strategies, cutting-edge rip-offs, and innovative culture jams.

I refer to these as "scams". How can I live even more liberated from one day to the next? This evolving freedom not only releases myself from the secular constraints of this world but allows me the time to share and love those around me on an entirely higher level. How do we survive in a political/economical/educational system that thrives off of the very act of exploiting each and every one of it's members (aside from those who can finance their way to the top of the pyramid, of course)?

Some scams have existed for centuries. Some were invented around the time that our grandparents were born. We've all heard of shoplifting. I'm sure that the term hobo or tramp may sound familiar even though their original defintions have been lost.

What new scam have I come across today? I'm sitting in a community college library as I type. I hitchhiked out here yesterday evening and spent the night with a beautiful friend that gave me her college i.d. and password. Instant access to an amazing library space and high-speed internet, not to mention a warm retreat from this cold Michigan winter.

It's almost Valentine's Day. This will be my first year in over 7 years without. But I'm an imposter, I'm a wanderer. I never stick around for too long. I'm still learning to depend on The Almighty.

much needed communion

I have this awful habit of holding off on everything that gives me joy
wether it be till the end of the day or the end of the year
The case in which this gives me the most trouble is when it comes to spiritual pleasures
may they be simple and not asking much of my time

I will go through an entire day, feverish at the thought
of time alone spent with My Creator, My Lord
Quiet, Nothing but communion between myself and The All-Knowing
But it must "always wait" until I finish my work

The actuality being that even while I'm thinking of putting HIM off,
I can be in touch, saying prayers under my breath
lifting my thoughts up

I much prefer a secluded spot amongst HIS creation
But tis not necessary.
This realization has been a long time coming.
Thank you, G_D

"the truth"

The desire to write a book struck me this morning
Not that I would necessarily act upon the impulse
But that if I was to, it would be called "the truth"
It would be autobiographical

"Truth", in respect to the proposed volume, would be observed in three different ways.
The first and forth most being The Creator, the only real truth that has ever spoken to me.
Secondly and much more overlying, my quondam as well as my present self.
A past and even current struggle (I truthfully hate to admit) with compulsive lying,
I feel self-reconciliation just from the thought of how this book might read.
And on the subject of reconciliation, the last way in which truth presents itself
Would be that I am sincerely just human.
How constantly I need remind myself of this reality is astounding.
Even more so, how constantly I myself am reminded of this by external factors is exhausting.

Small type, "the truth"
in the middle of an otherwise blank page
my fingers would strike the typewriter keys all through the night

"we were never related by blood"

"not hundreds, but perhaps 2"

"only by heart and circumstance"

"much less, so the possibility is slim"

"i thought my life to be boring, so i decided that i must invent another"

"i never lived there before"

"and these pieces of fiction got me into trouble regularly"

"i begin to wonder if it was worth it?"