its too dense to shift, a box too full of books. stand there and consider it, squat occasionally to rest my forehead against its solid inertia. a beautiful day spent indoors. a life lived alone. wrong turns on an eight lane, exit into some litterhostile town everybody in their cars, fuming. the feelings make a windy hollow sound between your eyes and theres nothing to say.
happy birthday, Algernon
“From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea”
"The most strongly enforced of all known taboos, is the taboo against knowing who or what you really are behind the mask of your apparently separate, independent, and isolated ego."
-Alan Wattswhats the word for that little scrap of rainbow you see sometimes in the late afternoon, just hangin there in the sky all by itself, one prayerflag liberated, unstrung, riding a thermal? whatever the word is for that, id be that word.
another for the Reading List
todays random wordticket poem:
deeper and deeper
made of sand