February 2011
10 posts
3 tags
2 tags
woman on street.
The
clip-clop
means purpose, an up-tempo stride
toward a new evening to conquer.
Clip-clops
bounce from buildings and parked cars
and return in rhythm,
like laughter
or rain.
Clip-clop
of pain
that returns at once,
like salmon
or the swallows of Capistrano.
Clip-clops
quickly away from one more disaster
of purpose, another whispered
clip-clop
end.
-gj
2 tags
“Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves.
They flickered out...”
– “Bubbles,” by Carl Sandburg
3 tags
secrets.
When Nathan was a child, he found her in a snow bank. He recognized her limbs, her body, her face, and discovered she was sleeping soundly. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he decided he would tell no one. Instead, he traced her features with his mitten and lay down next to her, his little secret. He named her Emily.
He searched for her, missing the coolness of her touch,...
“All men lead their lives behind a wall of misunderstanding they have themselves...”
– Sherwood Anderson, from “Poor White”
1 tag
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woman on train.
I took the train today, through another of the bitingly cold winter mornings of the season. These mornings work systematically for the commuters that frequent the station: we meet at the newspapers, the ticket window, the platform; we puff warm air out of our chapped lips and sip coffees with two creams and two sugars. We are the working-class walking dead, huddled just inside the swinging glass ...
1 tag
