Light it up Blue

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Children tell me things

Well,people tell me things

I don’t know why

They just do

Gracie

A five year-old

Blond hair down to her knees

Always tells me

Absolutely EVERYTHING she has done

Since the last time I’ve seen her

And then she asks about my tattoos

And she may or may not

Tell me about the current situation

Regarding her birthday

And an absolute need for the Ninja Turtles to be there

And then I tell her mother about my writing

Or any person for that matter

I’ve tried to insert it in a very cool way

I wrote it on poker cards

Because that’s cool

And hip

You know,

“here’s a card

A poker card

It has been written on

With my typewriter

And doubles as a book mark “

But after like card number fifty five

You get pretty bored

And just start writing on paper

Or sending people the link instead

Because that’s easier

Reagan is a real help

He always asks about my writing

And he’s doing really good now too

I’ve written about Reagan before

He has autism

Which is a spectrum disorder

But recently

He has driven a plane

He has shot a gun

He has built his own volcano

And reads prolifically

Autism is NOT something you should be nervous about

He has done really well

He even knows not to take me literally

For example

88 percent of the time

He says “oh,you’re just kidding aren’t you?”

Because,he knows, that yeah,I’m not secretly Iron Man.

And it doesn’t rain Jello from the sky.

So yes.

Today

April 2nd

We tip our hats to you guys

All of you

Who have these mighty Autistic loved ones.

It is not a weakness

It is a super power

The Night Garden

The vision

The hallways

Are doorways

The doorways

are gardens

And in the gardens

There is music

As the clocks all strike midnight

Still bodies

Like statues

break their oath of silence.

Slowly one by one

All through the garden

With white dresses

Everything is laced in gold

Peter wakes up

Rubs his eyes

Walks over to his laptop

And begins typing

He types about the statues

Like dolls

Dancing in the garden

He describes the clocks striking midnight

The sunrise stopping the event

Until the following night

Therapy

Mrs Jones

Welcomes Peter,his family smiles slightly….

“Peter is showing great improvement.His autism is not holding him back at all…and I believe whether or not his speech developes …he will navigate just fine…”

Her voice fades out into the back ground

As Peter walks outside

Down the lane

Where he sees

Figures

Waiting

Jo and Marie

“Hey Peter!.”

He’s excited now

He only sees them on Thursday

And today is Monday

“Come here,we have to show you something.its on the piano!”

They retreat back inside the old church…

He looks behind himself and then follows …running…

And there inside

Is all the lights

All the glitter

All the dancing

Like dolls

Across a ballroom floor

And an old piano

Marie starts playing

And the piano paints itself

With light

And color

She shows Peter the keys

And he begins fumbling through them

With his quick fingers

He stops

And looks at Jo

“Hey! Look at the ballroom!

That’s the gig!

Write it down

This is the music!”

Peter nods

And watches all the masks

Move like blood flows

Across the room

He watches all the lights

All the food

And plays

Trying to remember the movement

Of the room

This is the play

This is the night garden

The Blob fish song

(For Reagan)

Psychrolutes marcidus
If this is your name
Then you’re a blob fish
That’s what scientist say
Cause when you’re a fish
At the bottom of the sea
Off the coast of New Zealand
Other people name you
Or I guess they don’t speak
Your language
I don’t know

I know you’re feeling kind of gross
But up here isn’t that much better
And you get to float around because of your gross
And it helps you eat

I wonder what it’s like down there
I’m sure it probably gets boring
Doing nothing all your life
Just floating there
But then again
Maybe not
My dog does that an awful lot
He doesn’t seem to mind
And then I imagined
Life at the bottom of the sea
And being so blob and slime
It wasn’t that hard After …
I found mums Crisco jar

In reality
The physical element
Did not help things along
Only in mind
Only in my mind !
Oh great day
It’s hard to open doors
And the bathroom
When you really have to go
Or answer the phone
With Crisco on your hands !!!!

So in my mind
Sitting on the floor
I really started to feel like
Psychrolutes marcidus

Until I thought about
Giant Earth worms …
And whether or not
They like crisco …

But that was yesterday
And yesterday’s gone
And now I’ve really gotta go
Like really gotta go
And that’s all I know
About Psychrolutes marcidus
I hope that’s your real name
And remember you’re
Really kind of rare
So that means you’re
Kind of awesome

Venus fly trap song

(For Reagan)

It’s so tragic
It’s so harmonic
It’s so hilarious
The deals we make
When
Board games are
Boring
who needs
Deals
When
There’s sandwiches
Stacked against
The plate
And Venus fly traps
Out on a mountain
I’ve not climbed just yet

(Hey! Hah!
Don’t go over there
It’s poison isn’t back from the lab just yet…oh it’s effective.)

Who needs
Life
When there’s planets
And plants
And dirt
And math
And numbers
And sandwiches
With macaroni
That I don’t know
The name of
But
Venus fly traps
On a mountain
That I didn’t climb yet
But I woke up sore
After that
I don’t know
I don’t know
(Hey!)

The amazing Sundew plant. The balls of liquid are scented to attract flies, who once they approach to investigate become stuck to them. The stems then digest the fly slowly and he dies a venus fly trap style death
Image source flickr

The Reagan Syndrome

I had a book
With words!
But the words
Went flat –
I never went
Back to that.

I had a book
With pictures!
But the pictures
Had space,
I fell through
That.

I found a book
With words!
And pictures!
The words ,
Had shape!
The pictures
Had curve
They gave me
A world!
I’m stuck
In that…

Grace

I knew a girl named Grace
She lived inside the city
She couldn’t talk
But
She could say more
With her eyes
Than most of us
Say within a lifetime
Of words
Her laugh could make flowers grow
And was as spontaneous
As lightning

She preferred out
To in
Water
Over land
Rain
Always rain

She was a painter
An artist
And with her colours
And a touch
Of magic
Her works
Were like windows
Of expression

She always painted barefoot
colour splashed
From elbow to heel
She played piano better than anyone else I knew
Even though her left side
Was always numb
From an accident when she was young

I remember she loved children
She never forgot a birthday
With a gentle pat and a kiss
On the forehead
She always had something
For them

People came from miles around
To buy her magic
These windows of expression
But still
They asked for words…

Cerebral palsy

There’s things
You can’t shake
Feelings
You can’t break
A sister
A child
Seizing in your arms
When she’s
Little
I remember
Your first steps
On Christmas
You reaching out for the tree
You’ve struggled
No
Fought
Your whole life
For your place
Your voice
To break free
I remember
Sitting beside you
And explaining things
Your brother
Moving out
Getting married

I will always
Be there
Explaining
Reading
Drawing
When you like
Boys
And they
Do bullshit
Things
I’ll be there

It’s just
The idea
This idea
Of you drawing up
Your being locked
Within yourself
You
Being put in a cage
After fighting so hard
To break free
To express
That breaks me
But I will
Be there
I saw it when I was
Little
I’ve seen it
Before
This is yours
And I will be there
Again
And again
Again
Once more

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