Sunlight, the barn accordingly. Did you fall in love or into error?
Dust on the window sill, marred by overlapping circles where a coffee cup is set. What is salvation again?
You can read anything into this sentence and basically just did. Promises that went unkept in order to keep other promises: it happens that way sometimes.
Leaning our rifles against a hemlock, leaning ourselves against two other hemlocks, and sharing a thermos of instant coffee: deer hunting in a heart that does not want to kill any deer. Loving dancing.
Driving at dusk through Vermont towns whose names I forget, all those years ago, mistaking anticipation for happiness. Fine dust on the mantel in which a single cat's foot appears.
Early November a kind of red I long missed. We wrestle with monsters of our own making, and our wrestling is the making.
A week now looking at the moon thinking "wait - is it monosyllabic?" Drums stacked in the corner, guitars lined up unplayed.
Who in the end is worthy of this love? I wait a long time in the presence of crucifixes and rosaries for peace and peace always comes, always.
Not "back" to Sartre so much as reviewing what one always suspected. Too often we consent to the other's projection, live out our life in a kind of bland drama.
Driving a certain way to see a certain mountain, wondering which if any of my kids will acquire this particular habit of travel. Stop insisting transgression is bad, see it instead as a form of creativity?
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