From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #390 Reply-To: eda-thoughts@smoe.org Sender: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk eda-thoughts-digest Wednesday, November 29 2000 Volume 03 : Number 390 * If you ever wish to unsubscribe, send an email to * eda-thoughts-digest-request@smoe.org with ONLY * the word unsubscribe in the body of the email * . * PLEASE :) when you reply to this digest to send a post TO the list, * change the subject to reflect what your post is about. A subject * of Re: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #xxx or the like gives readers no clue * as to what your message is about. Today's Subjects: ----------------- ET: He saw past me wall... [PoE ] ET: Looking East (Looking Home) [Kara Garbe ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 27 Nov 2000 22:13:06 -0800 (PST) From: PoE Subject: ET: He saw past me wall... this is a true things please tell me what you think it means. +++++++++++++++++++++++ hola whats up shit this year was pretty sweet but next years gonna be cooles.Holly you are so unique never change ok no matter what your gonna be a very knowledqed person by the time your 30 so keep suking up the knowledge john k and with what he wrote it broke down its broken a wall of mine it crumbled john had seen me with my wall down my guard down how could this happen?? How could i let someone get close to me again.... ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ===== "Very funny, Scotty. Now beam up my clothes." "The sex was so good that even the neighbors had a cigarette." "The gene pool could use a little chlorine." "My kid had sex with your honor student." Yahoo! Shopping - Thousands of Stores. Millions of Products. http://shopping.yahoo.com/ ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 28 Nov 2000 16:02:35 -0500 (Eastern Standard Time) From: Kara Garbe Subject: ET: Looking East (Looking Home) i'd much appreciate thoughts, comments, reactions, criticisms.... (also, marty, you must still be out there, tell tara hello for me!!!!! and tell her to write me when she can. :) ~kara Looking East (Looking Home) My face in the mirror is pale and young. These are the genes of my father who gave me bad eyes, silver streaks and a legacy forgotten. I am looking back but I am afraid of my future - a mud hut in West Africa where I will live for two years, forgetting the color of my fears and dreams. Already I see myself bruised, burned on the edge of the Sahara, teaching English to children who come home (like I will) to dirt floors and firelight, short wave radio and skin echoing back to the birth of humanity here, here, in the stretched sore womb of forgotten lifetimes. I have forgotten my first language - the one I mumbled and inhaled and gulped in the womb, the words that suckled me and the face that crowded me against your skin, your eyes, and that old life I am straining to meet in Senegal, Ctte d'Ivoire, Burkina Faso. Already the hot sun is reddening my scalp, the lines of my face, the scars on my back. Already I am stretching across this earth like a tight balloon, like pavement or fishnet stockings. And you, you, in the thin creases of my palm, you must understand the color of my need - all things sway, tilt and empty. Once, my body pushed against the tight skin of her pain as now life pulses against the tight crust of the earth, the dirt floor at my palms in Morocco-Ghana-Liberia. The coast is moving in and I am stranded in the sands, shoulders empty and weightless where you did not push me down but let me fall, groveling, for the shimmering soul pieces I could not find to complete me. I am not afraid to die for my beliefs or my wounds, my needy dreams or open palms or shuddering stomach, but now I am falling flying, I am shivering waiting, I am listening dreaming. I am swimming to shore, to desert sands, to falling starlight. These still African waters and still African skies are untempered by the noise and light of industrial mistakes. I am moaning crying, I am searching dying, I am breathing drowning in this mass of mud dirt and cool dark nights where already I am bathing in starlight and cupfuls of cold river water. I will forget the color of my skin, shed knowledge like this life has all been a choice I can now choose to put aside in favor of heavier ancient truth, truth found in barefoot calluses and sundark skin and life like you do not find in the empty west, in this empty house or these empty veins or my empty words, this empty crust, sinking beneath the weight of turned faces and fallen hands. They are not my people or your people but us, our pain and past and common soil, and soon I am coming home to Togo-Guinea-Mali and already I am slipping climbing, I am crying singing, I am dancing flying and I have open eyes, an open heart and open palms, the mother tongue of humanity and I am embracing the dirt I was born to and the sky of stars that never set across the open-souled path to a future I will not fear. I am soiled skin, forgotten water and a voice unused to the uttered sounds I will cry one year from now, crouched in straw and dirt, taken in by new family and old life, by the voices that first whispered me into imagined existence two million years ago or more. ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V3 #390 **********************************