Friday, June 19, 2015

Always late.


My scientific
method failed and all I got
is this burned tshirt.


The smooth marble moved,
her picturesque lips toward mine.
My dream kissed my lips.


There are no words for it, no words that are right in this or any language, universe or dimension.  You’ve tried before, we all have; you tried to be original, tried to say it and mean it and convey the meat of it with beauty and grace, the type that leaves egos and heartbeats intact. This is something creativity cannot mend, cannot render soft as the gentle touch of an upper arm in greeting, leaving or affection. If only you could: imagine a world of smooth transitions. Fade into life, fade out of it. Roll up to the next grade, slide into the job market. Stroll through your career. Wander into love, meander out of it. Writing would be one step easier- we could all be James Joyce. Things like surprise, wonder, shock, amazement, astonishment, bewilderment, indecision, epiphanies, curiosity, awe, disbelief; these things would not exist. In fact, we would not have to think at all.

1 comment:

chardon said...

Outstanding post today! And where did you get the amazing picture? And did you remember to celebrate Bloomsday this week with a Guinness for breakfast?