Every once in a while I think of life as a timeline. I can see events at each little juncture of life, like filing papers in some metallic drawer. I also seem to focus on death a lot; the end of the timeline? I'm not sure and will never be sure until it happens to me. However, I've been weighing the density of these events as it gets closer to the ( Read more... )

I hit the sand and my hands are just like them, worn down. Meshed with flesh, I'm rooted. There's a cracked rock out there, but it is not that my eyes touch, but a bright fire. I find solace in the sunset. Although it must drop off the shelf of the earth, it stayed up for me, anyway. And it stayed. Its dance was in my crosshairs, my pupils peasants ( Read more... )

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