it's hardest when your newest ex misses you openly
"desire itself is movement
not in itself desirable;
love is itself unmoving,
only the cause and end of movement,
timeless, and undesiring
except in the aspect of time
caught in the form of limitation
between being and un-being.
sudden in a shaft of sunlight
even whille the dust moves
there rises the hidden laughter
of children in the foliage
quick now, here, now, always-
ridiculous the waste sad time
stretching before and after."
a section from Burnt Norton, by Eliot.
"You have to wait patiently some nights
and not be embittered by the rub of Humanity.
you have to wait patiently some nights
preferably alone
not thinking about too much of anything
alone with the typer
the cigar
the electric light bulb.
you have to wait patiently some nights
for the right moment
to climb out of the trough.
there's something splendid about this ritual as
curious and easy thoughts arrive
(right now I'm remembering that the
license plate is hanging loose by one screw
from the bumper of my car).
you have to wait patiently some nights
not because of this or that or some other thing
but because it's the sensible thing to do.
you have to wait patiently some nights
not because killers prowl the streets
not because of the tax man and
not because you miss the dance of life.
suddenly I decide
right now that
tomorrow I'll add another screw to that loose license plate
because that's what keeps it and my world from falling
apart:
small desperate acts
like this enable one
to continue fighting the good fight after
waiting patently through
the darkest night."
two cats asleep downstairs and death itself no problem, by Bukowski
i take another deep, slow breathe, and i am fine again.
just a faulter in my gait- nothing more or less- and still i continue forth.
not in itself desirable;
love is itself unmoving,
only the cause and end of movement,
timeless, and undesiring
except in the aspect of time
caught in the form of limitation
between being and un-being.
sudden in a shaft of sunlight
even whille the dust moves
there rises the hidden laughter
of children in the foliage
quick now, here, now, always-
ridiculous the waste sad time
stretching before and after."
a section from Burnt Norton, by Eliot.
"You have to wait patiently some nights
and not be embittered by the rub of Humanity.
you have to wait patiently some nights
preferably alone
not thinking about too much of anything
alone with the typer
the cigar
the electric light bulb.
you have to wait patiently some nights
for the right moment
to climb out of the trough.
there's something splendid about this ritual as
curious and easy thoughts arrive
(right now I'm remembering that the
license plate is hanging loose by one screw
from the bumper of my car).
you have to wait patiently some nights
not because of this or that or some other thing
but because it's the sensible thing to do.
you have to wait patiently some nights
not because killers prowl the streets
not because of the tax man and
not because you miss the dance of life.
suddenly I decide
right now that
tomorrow I'll add another screw to that loose license plate
because that's what keeps it and my world from falling
apart:
small desperate acts
like this enable one
to continue fighting the good fight after
waiting patently through
the darkest night."
two cats asleep downstairs and death itself no problem, by Bukowski
i take another deep, slow breathe, and i am fine again.
just a faulter in my gait- nothing more or less- and still i continue forth.