“God gave me eyes and took away my tongue lest I flap it like a flag in the morning breeze”
That is the first line in my center piece poem…a poem that’s been with me for a long time. The Hunched Man is the off key non-linear singer of a soul trying to manifest itself through the possibilities and limitations of a human life. This current iteration of that struggle is an attempt to unfold that same process in linear step by step prose–to discover where dancing and marching are merged.
The eyes and the tongue are a clue. We all see more than we can say. The protagonist in this story is shaped by that reality. His inner life is reflected in dream like experiences that take him in different directions to different dimensions at the same time. Moments are felt like Indepence Day fire works explosions, one after another lighting up his inner sky. How can he tell anyone about those moments?
His response to the impossibility of this predicament forces him to institute internal imprisonment. Since he cannot resolve the conflict he tries to live simultaneously as an unruly imagination running amuck and the warden that keeps that part of him in solitary confinement.
Year by year he does his daily job, he says less and less to his co-workers, he gives up trying to be friends, his eyes appear to grow in their power, and there is less and less that he can say about what is becoming some kind of missionary journey into the mystery of self.