i’d make a list, take nails and pound it on the door
except that its been done before
and besides, i’d have to do it on a screen,
to be seen, on tv, on the national news
say it loud in a sound clip you could use
quick enough to remember, redundant redundant
its all so dumb so dumb its sick
i’d have a dream but we’re all sleeping
scheming bling-blinging things to be got
and besides, why would that be good
the dreamers end up shot
in all liklihood
maybe its best to play it safe
If only I had a place with a creek in its soul
a place to cool my toes
a place to wash
a place to watch the flow
If only I had a set of rocks to hop on
Not the hard rocks
rocks washed soft
nature-made not placed there
instruments for the path of least resistance
not obstacles
If only I could drink there
and merely be
thirsty then quencehed
all in one moment
If only I had a place that rolls
down from the mountain
and on toward the river
and doesn’t fall
but it takes thirty minutes to park there
the banks are paved over
and every person sidewalks
I’m alone in my barefeet
used to be, there was nothing better to do
and now, well why would you
its dirty
and squish of sewage between the toes
sewage, unknown how old
used to be, it glittered like glass
and now it is glass
I only wish I had a place to rest my feet
that’s my reflection on the slick stone floor
not so far from the inside of the glass
barely a distance between us
barely the black
space
separates
and brings us back.
its curious.
its bending over to look at me.
its dim dumb mumbling lips repeat
I remember being small.
similar conversations transpired.
a triptych of mirrors
a fitting room from every angle.
I had crawled into a kaleidoscope,
just to say hello
to wave
and to wave back
just the same from every angle.
it’s a self-same expression
on every face
now and from every angle,
and on every surface,
the eyes are always
exactly the same
A panel of academics and theologians took a hard look at the increasingly heated issue of evolution versus intelligent design, in an effort to find some common ground. Although it appears there can be no winner in this cultural battle, there was mutual support for the so-called Box of Chocolates theory.
i want you
often and only
you chose me
once
it was short
but you did
you chose me
but only once
and not only.
In a literature class, a particular writer might be examined in terms of “style” or “voice” — that particular way that a writer uses the language. In other circles, I see those aspects are included in something they’ll call “branding” — the set of associations concerning what to expect from a writer, including voice, but also genre. The discussion is interesting from a Marxist point of view, where economic forces are inseparable from the consideration of anything, but I think this cheapens it somewhat, to associate the personality of a human or an art form with marketing from a company or institution.
Take a look at this discussion of branding, among these people/writers/marketing units: Grumpy Old Bookman, Buzz, Balls & Hype, and longtime authority on marketing communications, HBS professor John Deighton.
Effective January 27, 2006, Western Union will discontinue all Telegram and Commercial Messaging services..
I missed my chance to send a telegram! I never needed that chance, though. Still, there’s something romantic, to me, about the telegram. Email is technically a telegram, so is the document you are reading, but I still think it would be nice to recieve a small piece of paper written in that special shorthand. Oh well, too late.
