the long lines won't let go
I cannot even write
who is it that sold the world
who birthed it breaking
words turn, unlatch, and then
run away
I am run over in the middle of
of nowhere
the journey is now a recovery
just a few steps
forward and then I carefully
re-turn back
I'm eclipsed in the small forevers
of amnesias
a place I have all the time I want
to not be here
_____________
Pic: My today, basically: books, work, puppies. It's sad and hilarious how terrified Max is of the purple ball when it rolls towards him. He was scared of it when he was a puppy and it was bigger than him, and somehow scared of it still although he's much bigger than it now. Perhaps there's some lesson there for me?
12 comments:
Nice
Very moving poem, Maya. Oh, Max! Rexie was scared of a lot of things when he came to us, I think the younger boy he lived with was very rambunctious. If Rob brought out the tape measure, for example, Rex would try to hide under the table.
That last line is certainly tempting, in various ways of reading it.
Who sold the world indeed. *sigh*
Thank you!
Thank you, Nicole...
Oh, poor, sweet Rexie!
Ugh, I hate it that that line speaks to you, Steph...
We need something radical, Engie--I don't see the motivation fo that yet...
That's a beautiful poem that should never have had to be written.
The room is so beautiful, full of colour and light and warmth. I hope it's giving you some comfort. (We have the Smart Ass game too).
Thank you, Allison! Yes, I did cocoon myself yesterday. (We should play sometime!)
love the color in this pic.
The purple ball like a giant pimple lol
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