what my hands would say

Oh, to have two web sites, an icky blog that became too personal to be public, and way too many social networking profiles (research, people!). Well, you just dust that computer keyboard and start over again.

I just moved into a new home so right now my head is in design blogs and magazines. The place is actually clean enough so that I may write again. So there's really no excuse, really. Right?

These days I'm thinking a lot about hands. Mine are unpainted and ragged from moving, cleaning, and the usual wear and tear. Does anyone actually still wear rubber gloves to wash dishes? I was thinking about hands that are all about trust, and commitment which always makes me think of the other hands. The ones that should never touch someone else's skin.

So here's what's in my lint collector today:
-chipped china dishes
-unanswered phone calls
-a pillow top mattress
-painfully short broken finger nails
-fi the apple


and here's what came out:

What My Hands Would Say
my fingers are chipped
like a cracked hairline china dish
split between now and you know when
i stopped seeing stars
fancy dinner patterns gone to waste

the sky is falling and I just might
the sky is crying that's just about right
i'll roll with you-- the thunder and the ache
i'll sing you to sleep even when you are not awake

hammer it out some -- peforate
spread the words out and hear them reverberate
not quite what you said
not like what your heart sounds like

we're twelve times removed
in and out of black and white