some place else to be driftin’…
Posted in Letters on Nov 25th, 2007
There is a blackness in the closet of my soul that wakes me up in the middle of nights like this one. It is not an emptiness, this blackness; it is not an absence of light. It is a presence of its own, a malignance on my spirit. When I wake up, […]
Posted in Letters, Uncategorized on Sep 14th, 2006
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
Was it Thoreau who penned the lines about the mass of men leading lives of quiet desperation? There’s a lot more to that line than I’ve understood since I first read it. And it strikes me, in recalling my own experience, that I’ve been in that state of mind a lot of times in the […]
Posted in Letters on Mar 4th, 2005
If I am Still, can I yet be Movement? If I am empty, can I yet be full? I dance with life and I dance with questions. In my certainties, I am always unsure. I do a lot of thinking these days, assume a luxury my pocket assures me I cannot […]
Posted in Letters on Sep 27th, 2004
I’ve always thought it was a terrible thing to fall in love as deeply as I now love you. I’ve always told myself I wasn’t cut out for such a love, for I have always valued the self-control I’ve acquired over the years of…let’s call it hard living. Over these years, I’ve learned much […]
Posted in Letters on Jun 2nd, 2004
This is the way I write: a brook, over and beyond, sliding over a thought; a bread knife, planned and pell-mell, cutting through cheese; a conscience, learning to plot behind, and between, concepts potentially good or evil; an eddy, stirred into motion by contrary winds; an emptiness, holding itself sacrosanct — if only […]
