ephemerality
I say things poorly. Words are all sticky or sharp for me. There's hardly any graceful sort where the words take the shape of what I think about. And there are just these days, and I'm afraid I'll never explain quite right.
There was a little place that was blue and green on an otherwise white and tan canvas, and it was like looking through a little tear to a different place. Seeing you is like that, a small space of the otherwise unknown.
I did feel like crying when you sang of the sheets on the line and how in the evening you could smell the dry leaves, and how time stood still. I won't hear that song again, probably. I'll know as much as I did then, not more.
Tomorrow maybe, I will go out and stand by the canal. I will remember the things you said and I will think about them. I will look at the light on the water, and the leaves. Then I will walk home.
There was a little place that was blue and green on an otherwise white and tan canvas, and it was like looking through a little tear to a different place. Seeing you is like that, a small space of the otherwise unknown.
I did feel like crying when you sang of the sheets on the line and how in the evening you could smell the dry leaves, and how time stood still. I won't hear that song again, probably. I'll know as much as I did then, not more.
Tomorrow maybe, I will go out and stand by the canal. I will remember the things you said and I will think about them. I will look at the light on the water, and the leaves. Then I will walk home.
posted by angela at 3:02 AM
3 Comments:
When I preach to the Willows at my fire barrel altar the two combine, my altar ego and my alter ego and the Willows know me and they pray my prayer, City livers have unnecessary troubles, to starve in the country is better than thriving in a city. Nature deficit, the modern disease
This seems true, but also it seems true that one can be human deficit in both places. Certainly it seems rare to be really known by someone in any where of the world.
Why do you have two egos?
a small space of the otherwise unknown.... wow- poetry is the language of the soul and i think your soul is beautiful! in case you are wondering who i am - i am joni's g-ma and you are my new favorite poet :}
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