The art of disassembly

I dreamed my way through those days,
propped myself up like a scarecrow, 
couldn’t fool the crows.

If you want to know how something works you have to take it apart first, which applies to people, too. That’s what therapists do: help you find the bolt patterns and the connection points, so they can look down the pipes.

Maybe I can write a book or a collection of poems without having to call the plumber, but I think there’s something in the drains that needs to get out. For you, this is going through the artist’s garbage, best done in private, probably in the bathroom.

In the words of Ray Bradbury:

I have come up with a new simile to describe myself lately. It can be yours.

Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine. The landmine is me.

After the explosion, I spend the rest of the day putting the pieces together.

IMG_2509

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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4 Responses to The art of disassembly

  1. achillegblog says:

    Wow! This picture you used reminded me of the one that traditional farmers used in Africa many years ago. But nowadays they don’t use those things because birds of today are very confident and are fearless.

    Like

  2. Sahm King says:

    Reblogged this on The Arkside of Thought by Sahm King and commented:
    I’m not sure what to say beyond…it makes sense. How’s this for a perspective shift?

    Like

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