Kurdt

I’ll bet he thought about it for months before he did it maybe years. Maybe always a background hum that became a whisper that became a wail. Just do it just do it just it like a Nike enthusiast, like a race being run I’ll bet he started to listen to the hum like an insistent friend prodding him, hey, have you ever thought about your end? And again, around the dinner table maybe some classy place or maybe like the kitchen they laugh they laugh with him but never notice how dim his eyes like the laughter can’t quiet reach them. I’ll bet it was months where it built like a gesture, like a whisper, showing him how he lived in the gray and there were no colors left for him. Driving that piece of s**t car listening to the fuzz box on the radio but still hearing that thump thump thump. Just do it just do it. Walls closing in? Naw I’m betting it was different, less like a sin, more like freedom. Maybe years. I’ll bet he thought about it a lot before hopping that wall. It was on his mind with a purloined plane ticket under an assumed name. I’ll bet he thought about it a lot while setting the tape recorder up and pressing play. Broken lightbulb above the third windowpane. Someone should do something about that, someone should really do something about that. But finally, it won’t be him. I'll bet he thought about it for years, so heavy, so insistent, so much like an old friend, coming in the dark to take him home again. 

Reviews

[Helena]

A lot of dark themes and anger in your work, speaking of difficult times, which so many are living right now... Kurdt is strong and moving with powerful images.

[JR]

Thanks! I think maybe writing is my way of dealing with the darkness. I think we all are touched with it at least a little.