Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Always Teaching Always

It is time to be sad, to hope that certain people and animals will not wake up. Can I say that, that way? My eyes apparently work only to confirm illusions.

Sow what? The candle sputtered and the old woman stood to stir the heavy black pot. Are we not all starving in some way?

The ox stood patiently in the rain, its shoulder bloody and torn from a panicked black bear, attacking to protect its young. A gun is what punctuation mark? We are always teaching always.

T. writes about the great wisdom in nature and the words zip through my brain like bumper cars. I will not forget you, I will miss you. In deed.

Correct to say all writing is commodity? At least an object. The beaver climbed its dam and turned to look back at us doomed.

Autumn and its heavy bells. Pumpkins in the moonlight growing larger and larger. If all rocks are expanding, won't we someday lose sight of the world?

Or no, not. That long black car is rolling to a stop, locks on the back door popping.

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