When our sun blazes out And the end has come At least we were here All of us. All least we made music and made love At least our collective spirit Was as bright and bursting As the sun. ◊
Marcus Aurelius on the metro read a line, ponder a comical thing the philosopher on the train not a old man stroking his hirsute beard but a young woman immersed in the radical idea of mind beyond indulgence. ◊
Like if I made this desk Then I would finally sit down to write at it If I drove to get this smoothie Then I would finally be satiated If I caught up on all this laundry Then I would finally be done with it Until I'm not near my desk, Until I'm hungry again, … Continue reading To just be
O velvet patch of lustrous green Royal carpet of the forest Lush bedding of the water bears You are a demure vision Of subtlety and grace. O verdant, understated pride Community in miniature. Your concept of time Trounces the meagerness of humans'! Awash in moisture: A turgid, vibrant felt. Devoid of water: A lesson in … Continue reading Ode to Moss
To do this, You need silence. A peaceful place to think. Only through silence Your words bubble to the surface. Deep attention to the craft With the assistance of silence And you've got the makings Of a masterpiece. ◊
Here we are Just intelligent primates Packed on a high-speed moving train Like a carton of eggs. ◊
What of those things that move me? Like the defiant panache of Hamilton A precocious intellect, no doubt Brought back to life by that fastidious historian And that fearsomely fantastic composer What of those things that move me? Like direct orders from Anis Mojgani To shake the dust and Rock the fuck out What of … Continue reading What of those things that move me?