http://dustin.hatfieldblog.com Getting nowhere last. Thu, 22 Jul 2010 16:08:03 +0000 http://backend.userland.com/rss092 en The paint flakes as the ivy turns around the nail and between the planks. It pulls It pulls down and apart It thrives thrives and spreads A self destructive counterpart. A strangle and a struggle behind the shed. In the shadow of this corrugated wasteland. The truth will not fall on this mitigated blight. The shallow home is an irrigated fate ... http://dustin.hatfieldblog.com/?p=229 The magic has turned into something less. it turns a left to look back and confess. to unwind its mystery and tie my tongue. to smoke and smash the mirrors that don't reflect. The magic rejects the facts far flung. the memories, sharp edges of defects, cold coffee and warm beer. The magic regrets some illusions, some misgiving ... http://dustin.hatfieldblog.com/?p=224 The clock ticks slower than my breath as the nurses crisscross in the hallway. Midnight streetlights glow far below our hospital room. Drug addled and weary my bride sleeps in the bed. My son snores his first snores in the plastic bin crib. I stare up at the ceiling from the narrow couch. I'm trying ... http://dustin.hatfieldblog.com/?p=189 The city Parks officer rang our doorbell at about a quarter to 3.  It was a bright August day in '87.  I was 7 years old.  My brothers and I knew why she had come.  As my dad answered the door we hid in the kitchen so we could hear ... http://dustin.hatfieldblog.com/?p=158 Claustrophobic mirage of tangled webs, Caustic thoughts and mangled heads, Electronic voices call, Broken hearts they fall and fall, Unspoken choice is no choice at all. . . Each way is a wrong turn, Each word is the wrong thing to say, Each sunny day is a burn. I don't know how it will end, 'till then, IF is ... http://dustin.hatfieldblog.com/?p=138 Somewhere down the line, my vision will be mine, like the owl in the light of the moon, there's nothing but invisible you. Somewhere in the incense smoke, your prayers, in layers, float, like the fire burning in my eyes, there's invisible hope in disguise. Somewhere I'll be waiting, Somewhere I'll be holding on. With my eyes closed and breathe ... http://dustin.hatfieldblog.com/?p=115 i guess now is as good a time as any to talk about Julio, my friend who passed away last week as the result of a car accident.  the funeral will be wednesday.   he and i met when we both worked at albertsons in lubbock.  he was just a ... http://dustin.hatfieldblog.com/?p=109 What if I could hear myself think? Would it make a sound? Would it make any sense, out of everything? Everything that I've put up, shut up, hidden, and lit up, Showed and been shown, Had and had taken, Took and then gave away? What about the things I caught, and saved or those I let fall, destroyed, and fade ... http://dustin.hatfieldblog.com/?p=105 "What the hell!?" I was pissed. "How could you not tell me to say 'American'?" They all had just assumed that I knew. Or at least that's what Jerome told them to say. To this day I think they set me up, but at least ... http://dustin.hatfieldblog.com/?p=90 Note:  I should never have started telling this story.  I don't want to finish it, but it seems I can't do anything else until it's done.  Here on in it's going to be very rough, and probably poorly edited.  I just don't care anymore. After lunch we drove to the border, ... http://dustin.hatfieldblog.com/?p=82