June 1, 2012 § Leave a comment
January 10, 2012 § Leave a comment
You’d think I would’ve thought to plan for this.
(Then I think, is this something that can be planned for)
The door was shut and you opened it.
(That door doesn’t have a lock)
The words in my head can’t make it to my mouth.
(You shuffled them)
If you could have any memory, any at all, what would it be?
(Mine would be longer time with you)
November 27, 2011 § Leave a comment
Feathers in the winds, who knows if we do it right, even with directions.
So many people, so many shades of grey; know what you believe and find your contrast.
November 17, 2011 § Leave a comment
September 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
by Hayden Caruth
North people known for silence. Long
dark of winter. Norrland families go
months without talking, Eskimos also,
except bursts of sporadic eerie song.
South people different. Right and wrong
all crystal there and they squabble, no
fears, though they praise north silence. “Ho,”
they say, “look at them deep thinkers, them strong
philosophical types, men of peace.”
notice please of what happens. Winter on the brain.
You’re literate, so words are what you feel.
Then you’re struck dumb. To which love can you speak
the words that mean dying and going insane
and the relentless futility of the real?
via Writer’s Almanac