Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Tuesday, and Sky is home sick with a "cold".....whatever.....as soon as i turned the car back to the house he was singing like a carolina wren.....
now he's walking around the house......what's there to do?
so, i didn't go into my mindless job, i guess i'll clean house today. That can be therapeutic. My sister gave me the Dalai Lama's book - "The Art of Happiness" the cover is very good.
It is a beautiful day, but pretty cold.
So, what's it all about Alfie?
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Hey, where did it go?
Family of Bones
these tiny bones, i lay them on my life
they are you, and you, and you.
arranged to be the skeleton of love,
i sit inside them a attention, like
a dog waiting for its owner to return.
a garbage truck could flatten them into
the road, or a wind could scatter them
apart. as fragile as the remnants of a
bird, without the guts, without the worm.
with rain into the gutter they could flush
away, and there everything i love would
go. these pearl bones, i wish they could
be safe. so few, hung together with a thin
string or something. a family of bones
Friday, April 11, 2008
Okay, so even though I don't really have anything to say, i'm writing anyway, but here's the thing, i really didn't think anybody read this, so i'm writing this ..... i don't know why. This is my boy, Sky, who is nine. He drew this picture when he was seven. he looks exactly like this except that right now his hair is pretty long.
If you want to see him in action, here is a link to a movie his buddy (my ex-nephew Jasper) took. Never mind, I couldn't figure out how to do that, but if you go to utube, and type in ffuP, you will see it.
I'm writing about sky because I don't really have much to say, I ran 2 miles yesterday, and i'm stiff as a board.
Let's see there is this delirious garden in my head, it is spring after all, with colombines, narcissus, bleeding hearts, and hyacinths. The air is heavier, and thundering right now, crackling.
You have to let go of the past to move on. And you have to go forward, there is no past, except in memory, totally subjective. There is no future except in your imagination, and there is no now, a heartbeat between memory and imagination.