Wednesday, June 6, 2007


THE DAY: June 6, 2007.
THE TIME: 7:00ish PM
THE MUSIC: Stupid Boy; By Keith Urban
THE MOMENT: Eighths of an anticipation

Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond any experience

your eyes have their silence.
In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near.


A few nights ago I stuck my head out of a passenger’s seat window and closed my eyes to the night spinning past me. I waited for truth to rise and conquer all of the day’s passive resistance.

Next: I saw an impenetrable stretch of shadowy pine trees, and yet a sunken red moon shone through unknown dusty openings.

then, there was hope in me.



Anonymous said...

If you could conquere nations like you conquere words, you'd be like charlamagne

Lyndsi Shae* said...
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