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Walking through a field with my little brother Seth

I pointed to a place where kids had made angels in the snow.
For some reason, I told him that a troop of angels
had been shot and dissolved when they hit the ground.

He asked who had shot them and I said a farmer.

Then we were on the roof of the lake.
The ice looked like a photograph of water.

Why he asked. Why did he shoot them.

I didn't know where I was going with this.

They were on his property, I said.

When it's snowing, the outdoors seem like a room.

Today I traded hellos with my neighbor.
Our voices hung close in the new acoustics.
A room with the walls blasted to shreds and falling.

We returned to our shoveling, working side by side in silence.

But why were they on his property, he asked.

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https://docs.google.com/a/rcisd.org/document/d/1PFSfyXKG8BOQ5uqiXrbblfu20z5HtdgSvSlDisCibds/edit?usp=sharing

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Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night By Dylan Thomas

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Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night By Dylan Thomas

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Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

# data[].attributes.body
https://docs.google.com/a/rcisd.org/document/d/1Ev98KgVyOTmJvOgl4LE0xfCjZN01EXakFVq4oC2UVqA/edit?usp=sharing

# data[].attributes.body
https://docs.google.com/a/rcisd.org/document/d/1sVjiVm0JpeKDL1GGg_IFMynulQFYZHRNxRR9sEWNpVA/edit?usp=sharing

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When searching for the lost remember 8 things.

1.
We are vessels. We are circuit boards
swallowing the electricity of life upon birth.
It wheels through us creating every moment,
the pulse of a story, the soft hums of labor and love.
In our last moment it will come rushing
from our chests and be given back to the wind.
When we die. We go everywhere.

2.
Newton said energy is neither created nor destroyed.
In the halls of my middle school I can still hear
my friend Stephen singing his favorite song.
In the gymnasium I can still hear
the way he dribbled that basketball like it was a mallet
and the earth was a xylophone.
With an ear to the Atlantic I can hear
the Titanic’s band playing her to sleep,
Music. Wind. Music. Wind.

3.
The day my grandfather passed away there was the strongest wind,
I could feel his gentle hands blowing away from me.
I knew then they were off to find someone
who needed them more than I did.
On average 1.8 people on earth die every second.
There is always a gust of wind somewhere.

4.
The day Stephen was murdered
everything that made us love him rushed from his knife wounds
as though his chest were an auditorium
his life an audience leaving single file.
Every ounce of him has been
wrapping around this world in a windstorm
I have been looking for him for 9 years.

5.
Our bodies are nothing more than hosts to a collection of brilliant things.
When someone dies I do not weep over polaroids or belongings,
I begin to look for the lightning that has left them,
I feel out the strongest breeze and take off running.

6.
After 9 years I found Stephen.
I passed a basketball court in Boston
the point guard dribbled like he had a stadium roaring in his palms
Wilt Chamberlain pumping in his feet,
his hands flashing like x-rays,
a cross-over, a wrap-around
rewinding, turn-tables cracking open,
camera-men turn flash bulbs to fireworks.
Seven games and he never missed a shot,
his hands were luminous.
Pulsing. Pulsing.
I asked him how long he’d been playing,
he said nine 9 years

7.
The theory of six degrees of separation
was never meant to show how many people we can find,
it was a set of directions for how to find the people we have lost.

I found your voice Stephen,
found it in a young boy in Michigan who was always singing,
his lungs flapping like sails
I found your smile in Australia,
a young girl’s teeth shining like the opera house in your neck,
I saw your one true love come to life on the asphalt of Boston.

8.
We are not created or destroyed,
we are constantly transferred, shifted and renewed.
Everything we are is given to us.
Death does not come when a body is too exhausted to live
Death comes, because the brilliance inside us can only be contained for so long.
We do not die. We pass on, pass on the lightning burning through our throats.
when you leave me I will not cry for you
I will run into the strongest wind I can find
and welcome you home.

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The Rose The That Grew From Concrete By Tupac Shakur (Memorable line)

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The Rose The That Grew From Concrete By Tupac Shakur (Memorable line)

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Theme/Tone

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Cherry Glazerr - Had Ten Dollaz (Favorite Song)

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Cherry Glazerr - Had Ten Dollaz (Favorite Song)

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Had ten dollaz but I put it away
Don't know where I'm goin' but the wind is blowin'
Smokeless but no way of knowin'
I'll be fine once the wind stops blowin'

I know that you notice my ways
And I feel, I feel your gaze
I know that you notice my ways
And I feel, I feel your gaze

Had ten dollaz but I put it away
It's been a long, loveless day
You look at me like I'm crazy, Baby

Lay back at ease...
I know that you notice my ways
And I feel, I feel your gaze
I know that you notice my ways
And I feel, I feel your pain

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Juliet's Soliloquy (Act 2, Scene 2, Page 4)

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Juliet's Soliloquy (Act 2, Scene 2, Page 4)

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Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face,

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek

For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight.

Fain would I dwell on form. Fain, fain deny

What I have spoke. But farewell compliment!

Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say “ay,”

And I will take thy word. Yet if thou swear’st

Thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuries,

They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,

If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully.

Or if thou think’st I am too quickly won,

I’ll frown and be perverse and say thee nay,

So thou wilt woo. But else, not for the world.

In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,

And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light.

But trust me, gentleman, I’ll prove more true

Than those that have more coying to be strange.

I should have been more strange, I must confess,

But that thou overheard’st, ere I was 'ware,

My true love’s passion. Therefore pardon me,

And not impute this yielding to light love,

Which the dark night hath so discovered.

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So You Want To Be A Writer By Charles Bukowski (Meme)

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So You Want To Be A Writer By Charles Bukowski (Meme)

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Fire and Ice By Robert Frost (Black Out Poem)

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Fire and Ice By Robert Frost (Black Out Poem)