It is wonderful to hear from you!
I do hope that the earthquake, the repercussions of which were felt even in some northern climes, did not unduly affect you. Does the house still stand? Here, on a fault line that exceeds in size, If not active and aggressive shaking, we must always have a contingency plan for emergency response.
As colleagues, my greatest concern is for your library. I do hope your collection was spared and that the outer turmoil of reality hasn’t negatively affected the inner turmoil which is your muse.
My Seussian works will likely be more evident. I know you are a constant supporter of even my most obnoxious and lacking in literary merit poetry. It does amuse me to indulge my inner six-year-old.
Trusting that as time and rebuilding of your house carries on; you may again be able to convey your most welcome insights and critiques.
Kind regards, Fractured
North is so cold-ish
Faery wings can still flutter
A bit more up-ish
A Seussian haiku. What say you? Critics are evil but not like Knievel. I know, keep my day job…
I wish you could see the face that the world sees
How we all have doubts and fears in the public eye
That spotlights are really just very hot
And melt away the makeup, masks and warpaint
There is release in dancing in the dark
To music that only your ears can hear – who cares?
And ink spilled onto a hidden journal page
Those words seem more like an oyster’s pearls
Than a profligate’s prose tossed about
Carelessly as pearls before swine in skirts
Let weakness be called softness of spirit
And set fire to fears that threaten your soul
Unknown, unsure, unsung
How many journals burned, pages torn?
When the tears come, weep, if weep you must
But know that it makes you one of us
5 November 2013
I dunno. I guess I’m kind of, sorta a writer. I think I’ve written enough that I can say that and not feel like too much of a faker.
Sometimes, I’m just glad that y’all let me play in your sandbox. Other times, I’m like “What the hell am I doing here? Y’have the nerve to call this a blog? Does anybody hear or give a shit what I say?”
I catch myself looking for feedback. I joke about being so Sally Field… “You like me. You really like me!” I worry about everything that flies off my fingertips here. Do I talk too much? Not enough?
I can see there are topics, phrases, labels that engender far more interest but… I don’t think the blogging world needs another skirt to peek up under. Those blogs are a dime a dozen and I doubt that my variations and predilections would have much value beyond transient titillation. Ha! I said “tit” and got in some alliteration… gratuitous and annoying all in one sentence.
So… kicks metaphorical Converse-clad toe in sandbox dirt… I’ll just be over here in the corner. Real quiet, reading, watching and like, writing poetry and shit.
12 December 2013