The Color of Time

1

"Beautiful memory, most precious

and most treacherous sister.

"What temples must we build for you?

"And even then,

how belatedly you open to us.

"Even then, with what exuberance

you cross us."

Hi. Thanks for coming.

I'm gonna read from...

a series of poems.

They're written in long lines to...

give a feeling of... how we

actually speak to each other.

"I slip up on her, hook her narrow neck,

"haul her to me,

"hold her for a moment, let her go.

"Maybe the right words

were there all along.

"Complicity. Wonder.

"How pure we were then.

"Before Rimbaud, before Blake.

"Grace, love.

"Take care of us.

"Take care of us.

"Please."

Move your hand.

Let 'em do their thing.

They're thinking...

- That's the thinking vein?

- Yes.

- Move your hand.

- No, don't touch it.

Let me see. Move your hand.

If I think about veins,

I'm gonna pass out.

- Okay, let me see.

- Oh, my God.

- You got me thinking about 'em.

- Let me see!

Well, how about you...

- stop thinking?

- Yeah, and?

And pay attention to me.

Like literary things. Like I walk down

the street and I have a purpose.

I am... I have a mission.

You walk down the street and you go,

"Oh, look at that. Shiny things and..."

Shiny things? What? I don't...

Yeah, or just a light will hit a wall

and you'll stare at it for a while.

You get distracted easily.

Or inspired, however you want to say it.

Feel like I maybe

just got you a little mad.

- No, just...

- Are you sure?

No, no, whatever.

- Where's the pots?

- I'll get them out in a second.

Hey. Hey! Come here.

I'm totally kidding, I promise.

Hey. I'm so sorry.

I am. I'm so, so, so sorry.

Alright, so you put your hands like this.

Don't ask me why. Are you getting old?

I know, it's your hips. Alright, here we go.

Ready? And you go like this.

Ai! Not so hard.

If I do it, I'm gonna do it hard.

No. Why can't you ever listen to me?

- I do listen to you.

- No, you don't! You never listen to me.

What do you mean?

What? Sit around, don't do anything...

It's fun.

Yeah, but, you know,

I have things I want to do.

- What, and I don't?

- I don't know. Do you?

I don't think that we always have to be

on the go. I just don't share that. I don't.

I think it's okay to sometimes just stop

and breathe for two seconds.

I don't see anything wrong with it.

I'll be back.

Good evening.

My name is C.K. Williams.

And...

these are poems that I wrote...

in my 20s...

loosely based on experiences I've had.

This one's called 'My Mother's Lips'.

"Until I asked her

to please stop doing it

"and was astonished to find..."

"Until I asked her

to please stop doing it..."

"Until I..."

'My Mother's Lips'.

"It's endearing to watch us again

in that long-ago dusk,

"facing each other, my mother and me.

"I've grown to her height,

or just past it."

- Okay.

- "Now the unison suddenly breaks.

"I have to go on by myself.

"No maestro, no score to follow.

"There are our lips moving together..."

'My Mother's Lips'.

You want pancakes?

No.

- Eggs?

- No.

Remember what happened last night?

I don't want to talk about it.

Okay.

Eat.

Daddy! Daddy!

What is it, Charlie?

I need you to go to sleep.

Please!

For the love of God, go to sleep.

I don't want you to wake up

until tomorrow morning.

Listen to me. Hey.

I want you to go to sleep, alright?

Okay? I'm getting tired

of this, Charlie.

Hey, Charlie! Come on.

How many times did I tell you

to keep up with me, son?

I want you to stay with me, alright?

You want me to hold your hand?

Do I need to hold you?

Can you walk? Very good.

I'm gonna count to 10. 10!

If you aren't out here

by the time I hit 10,

boy, you're gonna get a whooping so hard,

you won't know what the hell hit you.

One, two,

three, four,

five, six...

seven, eight,

nine, ten.

"Although it's quiet now, not a sound,

"it's hard not to cry out.

"The boy doesn't know why.

"He doesn't know why,

but it's hard not to cry out.

"It's so hard not to cry out."

No!

Daddy!

Baby.

Ooh, line it up.

- Aw.

- Rats.

You did it. That counts.

- Are you ready?

- Yeah.

- I did it!

- You did too.

- And these rocks...

- Yep?

...do you throw it at any animals?

- No.

- What do you do with the rocks?

- I hit them at the dumpster.

- At the dumpster?

- You don't shoot it at any kids?

- No.

You know what you should shoot at?

You should shoot at your bad dreams.

Mom? Mom?

- I didn't know there was a pool here.

- Neither did I.

It's great. It's great.

- Did you unpack yet?

- Yeah.

- No.

- No. No, I didn't.

Dad'll be here tomorrow.

I think he'll like it here.

- You're getting in?

- Yeah.

I think I'm gonna practise my dive.

I mean, I've been practising a lot,

and...

now I think I can get it,

get it right.

I know I can get it right this time.

- I can get it really...

- Perfectly straight.

"My mother, all through my childhood,

"when I was saying something to her,

something important,

"would move her lips as I was speaking

"so that she seemed to be saying

under her breath

"the very words I was saying

as I was saying them.

"All she was really doing, of course,

was mouthing my words

"a split second

after I said them myself.

"But it wasn't until my own children were

learning to talk that I really understood how

"and understood too

the edge of anxiety in it,

"the wanting to bring you along

out of the silence,

"the compulsion to lift you again

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