Forgiveness

“Forgiveness
is for anyone who needs safe passage through my mind.”

-Buddy Wakefield

 

Buddy Wakefield Performing In Landscape

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1Z6ukukO_k

One of my favourite poems. I posted the words of the poem two weeks back.

Hurling Crowbirds At Mockingbars

This is beautiful.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHX3qtJlmdU

In Landscape

“There is a chance
you will show up laughing
made of fortified fan blades and Ferris wheel lights
true of heart and best foot forward
our long-awaited love made easy,
remember for sure no doubt these things:
The joy,
we are a point of complete.
This life,
standing guard over your solitude.
My eyes
are monsters for most things approaching.
I’m probably gonna need a hand with that.
This heart.
This sleeve.
Neither one of them things is all that clean.
But the rain,
my lucky number,
been doin’ her part to make things right
for the light bulbs
and the bruises.
Hiding holy water was not my forte this life.
Forte
is French
for blanket fort.
I have trusted my corners to revolving doors
but am fluent in getting better.
We are fluent in bouncing back,
lifting quickly,
learning fast.
Our courage
is a natural habitat.
Ya know we’re gonna build a body to keep the wolves out.
Hold my house
you humble barbarian,
this door only opens for the remarkable now.
So we will both show up remarkable.
Speak your piece from the I can do anything.
Say it clearly.
Follow through
on runways,
in turbulence.
There is a book
living inside your chest
with dilated instructions
on how to make a safe landing.
It was written
for crash landers.
Thank you.
I am coming home to listen.
It is time.
Please
forgive me my distractions.
There’s a freckle on your lip.
It is a national archive.
Give it to my ear
so you can see what I mean.
Here hold my breath
I will be right back.
There are gifts
hidden beneath these lungs.
Slide your hand over my mouth
and I will speak them
in hang glider,
in hilltop,
from the loyalty of a landscape,
silk in a sandpaper offering plate,
the jacket on a handsome man.
That lip
Sweet Grape, you cannibal,
kiss my eyes
until they see what it is that I wish to write down:
Your name.
Film strips of prayer.
Ribbons of a garden in stereo.
Driftwood welded to the guesthouse.
Ringfinger wrapped in a horseshoe nail.
I will meet you by the eighth day dream
in the wide open purpose of a locomotive coming
to a stand still with the sea,
like thumb
on pulse
you watch
what happens
when the air
erupts
into suction cups
opening up to breathe,
like the love in my lungs
took the tip of my tongue
and finally taught it how to read,
you five-acre ladder-backed pearl book pouring
from a pileated chest of Earth.
I know our story may look like octopus ink
to the rest of the breath in this world
(flying in under the radar
holding to a pattern of worth).
Come closer you guest of honor.
Chickens stay off the porch
in quiet,
in kindly.
We are the house gift-wrapped in welcome mats.
Your dinner’s on the table in thanks of that
and the loaves of chocolate toast,
the Book of Job and of Jet Propulsion,
raincoats floating in a rocket ship,
playing naked checkers in bed.
It is an utterly epic arrival
every time I get to see you again.
God, this is what I was talking about
for like 37 years,
a true story,
of oceanthroat,
of grace,
the holy goodness glory
I was praying to your face,
My Man,
this is what I meant
and this is what I’m meant to do
so sit me down inside us now
and let me praise the greatest good in you
by laying down my weapons
including the shield,
in rest,
inception,
on cue, my friend,
you came
your name
well lit,
stenciled on the walls of Fremont County
years before we even met
in landscape,
in scope
and so,
wing tipped,
I wrote it
down to the ground you walk on
with the heels of my helium shoes,
“Put your ear to the sky
and listen my darling,
everything whispers I love you.”

-Buddy Wakefield

I adore this poem so much. The last three lines reminds me even when I’m sad everything will find a way to tell me that I am always loved.

Complete

“The truth is I am a perfect part of the exact point at which all individual human beings meet and the spectrum of voices weaving themselves in between and screaming “Every sick thought you’ve ever had and every twisted feeling you’ve ever felt are what makes this painting complete.'”

-Buddy Wakefield

I admire this a lot. No matter what you think or feel your painting will be beautiful.

Buddy Wakefield

“There are massive stacks of bad choices in my backyard.
Haven’t finished cleaning the place up
but I’m workin’ on it
and clearly I have not yet reached enlightenment
for more than a fleeting moment
but I’m tryin’
and I found somethin’ here I want ya to have.
It’s not much
just a story
but it’s all I’ve got
so take it.”

-Buddy Wakefield

This is something I am working on. I am focusing on creating myself a better person than I was yesterday.

I am trying not to worry as much as I do. I am learning to embrace the now.

Print Flocking

Print Flocking

from Last American Valentine Anthology

“He wrote to you with firecracker chalk
on a blackboard background

from a free-standing landing pad
held together by choir claps

over buttercups spraying
out the mouths of doves.

Getting to his point
would require starting over

at the outer loop
of your ripple effect

swinging monkey bar style
arm over arm

parallel to parallel
minding the gaps.

Sometimes
it takes a deeper breath

to hover on holy
against the current.

He wasn’t falling out of love with you.
He was falling out of ways to tell you.”

Perfec-

I forgot that yesterday was Wednesday and that is why that I didn’t post anything regarding Buddy Wakefield. My apologies.

“And I know I’m not perfect. But I believe I was meant to be.”

-Buddy Wakefield

I love this because it reminds that perfection isn’t everything. I didn’t apply this knowledge to yesterday when I was making my boyfriend’s card. I kept having to redo it whenever a small error occurred, I need to allow myself to know that being imperfect is okay. It makes us human. Don’t let perfection ruin a good thing. Flaws add character.

Typewriter

“There was a typewriter

Buried alive in that horse,

The one I used to ride out of the flood.”

I don’t know what it is but I love this quote. To me, I see it as a way of chasing your dreams no matter how many obstacles stand in your way; you must continue to work harder to achieve your goals.

Letting Go

Last week I was sick so I forgot that I didn’t post anything for Buddy Wakefield Wednesday. I apologize for not remembering so here are two posts to make up for it.

“This is an apology letter to the both of us for how long it took me to let things go.”

I love this quote! It describes a time of my sadness. There were many times where I struggled to let go of a dying friendship and to accept that things were never able to go back to the way they were. It took me a long time to accept this fact but after accepting that truth, it is okay that my friendship ended. It was a difficult to accept and move on. But after many months I was able to move on with my head held high. A lot of things went wrong and I am sorry that things ended for the way they did.

There are times where I think of you and wonder if you are okay. But I am okay that we are no longer friends anymore. It taught me a lot of things that I needed to learn like acceptance of others and that you can’t mold someone into someone that they are not.

It was for the best. I realized that friendship happened for a reason and I am forever grateful for that friendship. If it wasn’t for that friendship I wouldn’t have met my boyfriend and I adore him to pieces. ❤