Canvas 312 — Enough Mist to Say

Enough mist to say the page could be a street the day the way fingers please a face Recently Banned Literature, October 26, 2013 [ 549 ]

Enough mist to say the page could be a street the day the way fingers please a face Recently Banned Literature, October 26, 2013 [ 549 ]

Leaves in the fall — and you still cling to the notion of perfection and flaw? October 17, 2019 [ 543 ]

Such beautiful apples! Which shall I bring home? I bend the bough. I pick the sun. [ 538 ]

Though he doesn’t look like him, he reminds me of someone in Jerusalem, chanting in rooster’s voice behind the tomb, ’mid incense-cloud in cage-like room, Spirit moored in tattered robe, soiled well along the road, with dandruff, food, and candle wax, a kind of holy grime and filth, or prophet’s gold, Where I met him in the gloom, when again I was as now, not quite young and almost old, […]

The longer I live, the more like a dream the past becomes. I look at what were once the looming figures of my childhood, and they seem shrouded in mist; the mist is kind to them; it softens them; their bright outlines are hidden; the light has changed; it is as if, relieved of their bodies, I have been given their souls. October 7, 2019. Evening. [ 531 ]

Roll was called. The words lined up in rows. What do you want to be when you grow up? Pictures or poems? Pictures! they cried out. Poems! And from that day on they all were both. [ 528 ]

As near as we are to one another, there remain galaxies between us. I call this Touch. [ 527 ]
I left the room. He followed. I poured the coffee. He drank.
I said, What is it that you want? He said, Only what you need in me.

Canvas 1,242 — October 1, 2019
[ 526 ]

If I let go of sorrow, and pain, should I not also be willing to let go of joy? For if I cling, do I not cling to everything? September 27, 2019. The last fine sliver of a waning moon. [ 524 ]

If it can be held, it can also be released. There have been other thoughts today. But I do not remember them. September 24, 2019 [ 521 ]