Jumping Over the MoonStaring at the ants, it occurred to me that I had been spending a lot of time sitting in driveways. Thinking in driveways. Crying in driveways. Becoming nothing in driveways.Jumping Over the Moon
But where else was there to go?
The first night we spent here, in the house, we stood behind the dining room table, looking out the window into the backyard. Darkness. But in that twilight we saw what was hidden in the day. Centaurs and wolves, battling one another in the odd sheen of the moon. A dazzling spectacle of hooves and teeth and fur and what our lives had been made up of since that time. Standing there, we were as we should be. &
Anne and LelandWhat we call the beginning," Leland said, "is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start."Anne and Leland
She said, "That was Thomas Eliot, but that doesn't matter."
She said, "What he meant, when he said it, why; none of that matters either."
What's important is what it does to you. How it makes you think; the image that forms in your mind. If it makes you feel.
"Anything taken out of context," Leland always says, "can be made to mean whatever you want it to. It's what politicians do to their opponents; take a short quote and make it into something people don't lik
Lift UpLift me up, Mother, So that I may feel the sun: and see the reckoning. A push and a pull from some unknown direction. You're a guide as lost as myself, and maybe no one else knows, but the sun has enlightened me,Lift Up
and on my forehead rests a purple eye, that sees not the grass, the tree, the sky, but what passes for You as salvation.
Chains around our ankles, worn like an old friend. And You're worn down from the pressure of above, of the things You'll never understand. But let me lift You up, Mother, So that You may feel the sun:
ConfessionalIt's dark out, complete blackness but for the street lamp a ways down, at the end of the street.Confessional
It's past midnight, maybe. Probably. Of course.
And you're still not here.
You're still making me wait. My atonement for the sins I've never committed. The ones that always dart at the edge of my mind, fleeing the grasp of my hands, aching so to catch them. To use them.
Aloneness. Desperation. The things the driveway holds for those willing to take it. Unwanted revelations.
And it's here I realize: how else would it be?
You showing up, that's but a distant day drea
Llamas
Sweet
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God must be laughing his ass off.
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Cody
"Into each life some rain must fall" -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Be the change. [link]
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In the world of your Imagination... Neverland is possible...
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tyr to forget things I've already forgotten
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~A muscian must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be.
~To find in ourselves what makes life worth living is risky business, for it means that once we know we must seek it
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