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Showing posts from October, 2010

Evening of a writer 10/15/10

The clock was perfect. Each hand rotated in response to the other --a random way to track the day. A simple metronome, then the chorus, trumpets roaring …could almost see the shape of this exact time this exact evening how it fit into the all yet rose above it. Then the mundane --a routine to tend to, a hand to lend you, a vibrant face the color of marble pressed against cosmic space; outlines in the sand washed away appearing again… a holy mystery written with a comic’s wit, Arms on hips right hand holding chin, ...could be a reconfirguration, An open face gazing up into the rain unflinching...