The unscratched newness of possible…caressing night lights, haven’t left the house, they sat there at the bottom of that dress…waiting…for the demanding dress.
The singers crying over words they know too well, that make sense of life and the “if only I’d remembered to listen a little longer…”
So we don’t help, we forget, we let things be. We ignore the children.
Holding the handmade ornaments from my daughter, with their crayon colorings, brilliantly arranged as a little girl of five to say Santa was arriving, made me nostalgic for those beautiful days of handcrafted gifts with special bows made by her small hands.
We are willing to have the world gaze upon our words as if they knew us intimately, and they want to, and they need to. How else will they explain their very
I am an atom, founded in your scientific and artistic reincarnation of the creation story, all done in myth and history. You did me before and accurately, while fighting the same me and the same wars, all in the name of atrocities.
She told me all the things I needed to know and hear. A dying man needed to know he’d be remembered.
Amor Fati – Love Your Fate…which is in fact your life – Friedrich Nietzsche
We as global citizens, even if not American, have a right to demand the end of deaths, the end of murders and the end of what we can only see as a love of guns. We love our American friends and neighbors.
How much do I love him? Stop askin’ me, can’t a blind man see? How much do I love him, and a laughter came back again to me…how much do I love him?