Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Emptiness Like Hunger

A direct path to potpourri. Quality is not the measure, plastic bags are the measure. By a camp lantern, they learned that they had dark souls and thus committed to writing.

Oh yes wait a minute Mrs. Postman. Long hours throwing bales onto the truck and not then needing any other life. What was coming was not trout in cool pools, not at all.

This phone call and that phone call and at all times an ache in the throat signifying what. Time passes is the least of it. Do numbers count?

They did it quickly, thorns in their feet, the voices of other hikers farther down the trail. It's true that geography locates you but only one way. A dream of whales, a river that won't drop and others, always others.

The dog looked at me patiently awaiting further orders. Semicolons are baroque, commas dither. What presented the universe in such awful - such apparently non-negotiable - terms?

He slashed his credit cards and waited for the snow to begin falling in earnest. As always, there are dreams. So you want to start a story with one of these, hey?

All morning I looked for you and at no point did you appear. My hands clasped the cold air and at once an emptiness like hunger took the lungs.

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