Friday, January 18, 2013

Incapable Of Meaningful Translations

I woke to a crease in the curtain through which one or two stars were visible and thought of you who I have not seen in almost twenty-five years. Time passes, leaving us like islands. She said while folding the recently-washed quilt, I think you are making all of this harder than it has to be. The best advice as always is to choose your teachers carefully.

Life has been commercialized and one longs to respond to that. Stop idolizing circles! I awaited your email for many hours and when it at last arrived was too tired to read it. A little snow sifts down from the pine tree and my heart breaks proving itself (again) simultaneously amenable to love and incapable of meaningful translations.

Halfway through the bottle of wine he mentioned he had been sober two years and was afraid to tell me and we both cried, seeing what we had done to each other. Thus the storm begins, thus it rains. Always ask: what is this for? The train left and we watched it go, wondering what it meant that we had chosen to remain in an unfamiliar city.

There are lots of ways to say I love you but falling to your knees when you're just shy of fifty isn't one of them. A writer I admire says he invented all the battles he ever fought. She sleeps the sleep of Adam and I watch her, grateful as always for the presence of a lovely woman. It's always sunny somewhere!

Walking in darkness, talking to Jesus, one arrives unexpectedly at the sacred crossroads. Robert Johnson won't you please come home and do an encore? My word. When the light for which we long was in us all along.

No comments:

Post a Comment