The End
The End:
What does it smell like?
Snow. wine. fire. autumn. ink.
What?
The Unknown:
Tasteless. Odorless. Mysterious.
Until proven otherwise.
But secretly, I think it smells like:
A spring breeze. bread baking. love-making. old paper...
Like coming home.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Tiny/Untitled
Tiny
My life seems to be going backwards. I am growing small. I was much more adult, certain, responsible, driven than myself today. Today, I doubt and question, I am lazier (or more relaxed?), groping for purpose. I even dress younger than I used to. I am getting older, but not wiser, almost over the "mid-20's" hill, barrelling toward 30 without a clue. I am fitting in less and less, forgetting how to be "normal", socially acceptable. In a world of my own where "cats and rabbits all reside in fancy little houses..." and I fit through doorways of a size I never thought possible! I am day-dreaming and having nightmares. I have tantrums, I pretend. I am curious; I am asking why.
I want a nightlight, music to lull me to deep sleep, my mom to scratch my back with her cool, knuckly fingers. I want to stand behind someone's skirts, hiding from the big scary world. I'm so tiny next to it, and getting tinier.
Untitled
I know that sound:
It is you awake, moving, changing
Bedsheets shifting, sun on your long hair.
It is a beginning, a becoming
Older, curiouser
A new day of you in the world
I hope it (the world) notices, changes.
My life seems to be going backwards. I am growing small. I was much more adult, certain, responsible, driven than myself today. Today, I doubt and question, I am lazier (or more relaxed?), groping for purpose. I even dress younger than I used to. I am getting older, but not wiser, almost over the "mid-20's" hill, barrelling toward 30 without a clue. I am fitting in less and less, forgetting how to be "normal", socially acceptable. In a world of my own where "cats and rabbits all reside in fancy little houses..." and I fit through doorways of a size I never thought possible! I am day-dreaming and having nightmares. I have tantrums, I pretend. I am curious; I am asking why.
I want a nightlight, music to lull me to deep sleep, my mom to scratch my back with her cool, knuckly fingers. I want to stand behind someone's skirts, hiding from the big scary world. I'm so tiny next to it, and getting tinier.
Untitled
I know that sound:
It is you awake, moving, changing
Bedsheets shifting, sun on your long hair.
It is a beginning, a becoming
Older, curiouser
A new day of you in the world
I hope it (the world) notices, changes.
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