Friday

Knowledge (From Where)

 

From where does the art come?
    Is it a this-for-that transaction?
        or is it sometimes borne from
            pain
            trauma
            shame
            suffering

OR

Is art simply an individualized form of
self expression for awkward people
to drop hints and clues of
who they really are?

There is pleasure and there are pleasures
    Experiences individualized and as
        customized as anything

Curated to within
    a gasp of life

Inspiration being something more valuable than gold

I know what it is I do
I am simply a perfectionist

Tuesday

2022.


admin@middlespace.net


Wednesday

out


 

out
 
7:00 para auriculares y cacao

 tyhardaway dot com 

Monday

2022 - 30


 

balance

who is to say that we
did not all die already
and all that remains is
stardust and light shards

but i guess that would be
what the crazy people say
the ones we ridicule
as uninformed

it is all a matter
of equilibrium and
how well we balance scales
physical and metaphorical

after all, the culture you
have created is extremely
specific and exclusive
sensitive and superior

Monday

The Camaraderie of Incredulous People


 The Camaraderie of Incredulous People

Today I am a fifty-seven-year-old half-black filipino jew male
living in the united states of america — he/him hee/haw har/har

It is the year 2022 and my country world has revealed itself
to be a failed nation planet deserving only of itself
 
I exist on oatmeal, coffee, tea, and index cards
I see through the knots in the knots

I exist on the blood and sweat of the youth
and on the backs and graves of ancestors

Friday

Middlespace Kingdom

 

There’s a dude I’ve recently noticed in the area. Sometimes sleeping sitting upright in Starbucks, sometimes hanging outside Panera Bread. But never bothering anybody. Not a peep. Not a second glance. It appears as if he has no place to stay and his stuff is meticulously sectioned into a shopping cart. He smartly stays a good one block buffer from anything residential. He is safely existing under our safe haven umbrella. He knows. He can’t even raise a voice or talk back to anyone or he’d be sent. He has to be safe. He has to fit in and be unproblematic. We’ve always had the unhoused in our midst. Always. But very few get to stay for too long. Goddamn, do I feel for the man, these people. This very well could be any of us. I have so much empathy but…what on earth can I do, slip them twenties? The bad people say, run them out of town. The good people say fund the support services. Nobody says buy them a sandwich or a cup of coffee. But what could I do? I’m just trying to survive too. So, I always make eye contact and I say hello with this gentleman. No disrespect. He knows very well I can’t do anything for him but maybe he appreciates the earnest hello. He has seen it all. He sees it all.