Cleveland, Detroit, and the other rust belt cities have so much in common, so much history that has been forgotten by the very individuals dwelling there.  The gorgeous architecture: husks of giant creatures encrusted on a lake shore. You can look at those crumbling bricks, broken glass, and you can imagine how beautiful the thing was when it was ( Read more... )

It is raining here.

Somehow or other in this life I am a human being:
            to cultivate my loves (now), and to hate those of dissimilar  
            temperament (forever),
            fenced in by my own ignorance and incapacity for further awareness.

I attempt to call to mind the present,
            to think about the various wilder ( Read more... )

I am a stone that has been thrown by something
    into a running river:
       splash-crack as I settle into a place
            into which only I can settle.
And the water washes, washes over me.
     Through January, June;
         August, October.

Let it all wash over me.

[Even a stone dropped into a pool
     does not wonder why ripples return ( Read more... )

Reading the online journal of one of my favorite writers is disappointing to me.  Her cynical views about the world- the ignorance, the hatred, war, environmental ruin, hypocrisy of "stupid" people in general, etc.   Does this make one a deeper person, being aware of these things?  Of course  these things exist in the world.  The world isn't fair, ( Read more... )

Strange dreams last night.  Hard to tell if my eyes were even closed.  Tangled in my bedding, a green comforter body formed like Adam from clay.  So we reclined together, astonished by one another’s presence.

Flowing, stitched hair, soft features, beautifully patterned in its own way.  I wouldn’t say I was unnerved or anxious about it, but our ( Read more... )

I feel like the ones I’ve cared about in my life are turning to ash and blowing away.  Or they’re wispy Victorian ghosts or holograms from some future- when I want to touch them, my hands pass through them, leaving me with the sobering, silent sense of being alone in the Present.  Too many times I find myself questioning how real those images and ( Read more... )