Branch 1: Revision #2

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 Branch 1: Revision #2 of Too Human To Be Afraid Of Spirits
Original Draft

 

too human to be afraid of spirits

"can i borrow your lighter?"

"sure", i say.
i see how descended he is in his own eyes
as he mulls over his premeditation,
while lighting the stump of a cigarette.
i look into him and he can't remember
the last time he was more structured human,
rather than this chaotic and amateur spirit.

"can i have a cigarette?"

"no", I say.
he was swirling and drowning and unable to
keep it contained and i did not feel like getting wet.
who knows how long he has been gone
to live with the people of the sea.
he doesn't even hear my language,
only feels my spirit denying his what it wants.

"i'll steal one"

"you can try", i say.
now that i know what will get through
to him, i talk more with spirit than words.
i see the contemplation of whether he
wants to attempt a physical encounter,
and that is the most human he's been.

"i'll steal one!"

"you can try", i say
he tries to push fear into me
with his tattered flannel vest with ripped
sleeves. he tries to push fear into me
with his dreadlocks and incoherency of
speech, movement, and energy.

"i'll steal one!"

"you can try", i say
like an adolescent moon he tries
to pull me into him with his tide.
unlucky for him i see him. unlucky
for him today i am not getting wet
and my earth remains me. offended
that a peasant such as myself has in him
an equivalent and antithetical establishment
he moves on down the street, frustrated.
his offended spirit spitting off his tongue.
i was only potentially stronger,
most likely simply not worth the energy.
he crossed the street and walked up to a man.

"do you have any change?"

"no", said the man
who doesn't know why, but
is afraid of the questioner.
unfortunately for the questioner
so are some of the families passing by.
they don't want to get wet.

"i'll steal some!"

"you will what?" says the man.
the questioner pulls out a chain
and begins whipping at the man.
someone calls the cops on a cellphone.

"i'll steal some!"

"stop! cries the man"
who defends himself with forearms
and volume and is afraid;
afraid of swirling and drowning, afraid.
which is why, in my opinion, the assaulter continued

"i'll steal some!"

"stop", yells the policeman
while unsheathing his baton
and striking the questioning assaulter
on his forearms knocking the chain
from his hands to skittering on the sidewalk.

"i'll steal some!"

"stop", yell two more policemen
who drive batons and forearms
upon the assaulting questioner.
the questioner did not possess enough
humanity to overpower the policemen who
were much too human to be afraid of spirits.

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Revision 1 Notes: Too Human To Be Afraid Of Spirits

Too Human to be Afraid of Spirits

can i borrow your lighter?

sure, i say.
descended in his own eyes
mulling over premeditation,
lighting the stump of a cigarette.
i looked into him. he can't remember
the last time he was more
rather than this chaotic spirit.

can i have a cigarette

no, I say.
he was swirling drowning

unable to keep it contained and 

i did would not feel like getting wet.
who knows how long had he has been gone
to live with the people of the sea.
he doesn't did not even hear my language,
only felt my spirit denying his what it wants.

i'll steal one

you can try, i say.
now that i know what will get through
to him, i talk more with spirit than with words.
i see the contemplation of whether he
wants to attempt a physical encounter,
and that is the most human he has been.

i'll steal one!

you can try, i say
he tries, to push fear into me
with his tattered flannel vest with his
ripped sleeves. he tries to push fear into me
with his dreadlocks and incoherency of
speech, and thoughts, and movement and energy.

i'll steal one!

you can try, i say
like an adolescent moon he tries
to pull me into him with his tide.
unlucky for him i see him. unlucky
for him today, i will not getting wet
and my earth remains me. offended
that a peasant such as myself has in him
an at equivalent and such antithetical establishment
he moves on down the street, frustrated.
his offended spirit spitting off  of his tongue.
i was only potentially stronger,
most likely simply not worth the energy.
he crosses the street and walks up to a man.

do you have any change?

no, said the man
who doesn't know why, but
is afraid of the questioner.
unfortunately for the questioner
so are some of the families passing by.
they don't not wanting to get wet.

i'll steal some!

you will what? says the man.
the questioner pulls out a chain
and begins whipping at the man.
someone calls the police on a cellphone.

i'll steal some!

stop! cries the man
who defends himself with forearms
with volume  afraid;
afraid of swirling of drowning, afraid.
which is why, in my opinion, the assaulter continued

i'll steal some!

stop, yells the policeman
while unsheathing a baton
and striking the questioner assaulter
on his forearms knocking the chain
from his hands to skittering on the street.

i'll steal some!  i'll steal some!

stop, yell two more policemen
who driving batons and forearms
upon the assaulting questioner.
the questioner did not possessing enough
humanity to overpower. the policemen who
were much too human to be afraid of spirits.

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Post Notes Revision: 

Too Human to be Afraid of Spirits

can i borrow your lighter?

sure, i say.
he's descended in his own eyes
mulling over premeditation,
lighting the stump of a cigarette.
i look into him. he cannot remember
the last time he was more.

can i have a cigarette?

no, I say.
swirling drowning

unable to keep contained and 

i did not want to get wet.
how long had he been gone
to the people of the sea?
he did not even hear language,
only felt denying wants.

i'll steal one

you can try, i say.
now that i know what will get through
to him, i talk more with spirit than with words.
i see contemplation a physical encounter,
and that is the most human he has been.

i'll steal one

you can try, i say.
he tries to push fear into me
tattered flannel vest, ripped sleeves,
dreadlocks.  incoherency of
speech and thoughts and movement.

i'll steal one!

you can try, i say.
like an adolescent moon, he tries
to pull me into him  his tide.
i see him. for him today, i will not getting wet
my earth remains. offended
he moves down the street.
his spirit spitting off  of his tongue.
i was only potentially stronger.
he crosses the street, walks up to a man.

do you have any change?

no, said the man
afraid of the questioner.
so are some families passing
not wanting to get wet.

i'll steal some!

you will what? says the man.
the questioner pulls out a chain
whipping at the man.

i'll steal some!

stop! cries the man
with forearms
with volume  afraid
of swirling drowning.
the questioner continues.

i'll steal some!

stop, yells the policeman
unsheathing baton
striking the questioner
on forearms knocking the chain
skittering onto the street.

i'll steal some!  i'll steal some!

stop, two more 
driving batons and forearms
the questioner not possessing enough
humanity. the policemen too human
to be afraid of spirits.