Intrepid: An LGBTQ+ Arts Magazine September 2015 | Page 4

Artistic alley: stories, poems, and art from the lgbtq+ community Featured Artists: Natalie Earnhart, of San Diego, CA and Mel Timbers, of San Diego, CA Send us your work for next month’s issue: [email protected] “The Imagination of Silence” A Monologue by Mel Timbers Take a look into my life. This, is me. The Sea-Weed Groves By: Natalie Earnhart Sea-weed, headlights of cars, engines failing— all marks of something stirring. Inside the outside your body turning purple. Latent as a popsicle stick, prone to the hospital bed, turpentine, pupils find the widening after the sake, ceramic, traveler of capillaries. the droning of the fridge— Your aching belly. Inside the blind-side, a crow with his feet tucked in. Who thought the stars a measurement of time? When galaxies fade to the brightest constellation, mirroring the dualities we find within the notion we are always divided by some melting of atomic clocks, you decided you could not mold the rocks. To the outside world, I may not be able to speak… Or hear, but, I’m still human. In my world, I can speak. My thoughts, my emotions, my words are loud and clear. The human mind is an amazing thing full of wonder. It conveys messages that the body can express in so many ways. Body language is universal, it sends a message to anybody. That’s how I finally figured out to make my living. Magic. Amazement. Wonder. My imagination. If one were to open up my skull then immediately the thing they wouldn’t see is a pink, fleshy brain. No. They wouldn’t see a deaf kid. They wouldn’t see a dumb kid. 100 times no. They wouldn’t see an outcast. They would simply see a boy who loves Charlie Chaplin movies because they tell a story even without words. Out of my head would climb even numbers, because those are my favorite, with the number 8 dominating. Memories of summers on the ocean, my brain imagining the absurd sound of the waves crashing on the sand. The delicate smile on my Father’s face expressing happiness, joy, and although it made no sound in my head, I could imagine the sound. It was a twinkling. Elves, goblins, witches, and mythical creatures would file out, one by one, all dancing the congo. Musical theatre actors would be singing and dancing, dazzling my eyes with colors while I made up a tune in my head. They would be dancing atop the skyscrapers in New York City, while whales and pigs grew wings and flew from the sky. Purple and green elephants would romp through the kelp forests. Eight and sixteenth notes would march out i