Choose carefully which coffee is yours:
Do we travel without destination?
Without a plan for the route?
There are those who read the last page
before turning to the end.
But with the first word set down here
the journey begins to parts unknown.
What sights will be revealed
which of the roads will we choose?
To begin the day all grey and still
does not preclude a brighter afternoon
with joy or tears at end of day
and dreams recalled of hope or loss.
You and I embark then to see the end
shall we compare notes on where we’ve been?
No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader. For me the initial delight is in the surprise of remembering something I didn’t know I knew. I am in a place, in a situation, as if I had materialized from cloud or risen out of the ground. There is a glad recognition of the long lost and the rest follows. The Figure a Poem Makes – Robert Frost (excerpt here)
haiku, randomly
sparked, written and edited
to capture all this
martini so good
herbal, icy and olives
headache is easing.
sometimes I wish for
the tears of childhood pouring,
bringing on night’s sleep.
Today the stresses have caught up to me:
the practical voice on the radio advised
letting go of your passion to pay the bills
to get a real job, a second job, to save.
The erratic cars on the highway urged me:
drive more carefully, watch out for us!
The weatherman broke in to report that
strong winds would make driving today difficult.
Does he have to seem so excited by this?
Is saving and working more jobs and letting go,
is that easy enough for others, really?
Weaving cars, couldn’t you slow down a bit?
If the world seems gunning for you,
is it wrong to think it is?
7 april 2013
I had a moment of thinking there should be something like The Stresses like The Muses etc in mythology. I probably would have thought more deeply about this during the drive in but I was watching out for the cars driving twenty miles per hour faster than I was and weaving in and out of traffic on a Sunday morning.
after I left work, I had to go to Tar-Jay. Turns out, all my underwear was dying at the same time. Probably because, go figure, it had all died and been replaced at once whenever last that happened. Anyway I went and wandered around and had a good time. Found a bag of acceptable cat food to stave off kitty starvation for a few days so I didn’t have to make an extra stop.
And then I came home. Isn’t that just incredibly exciting? Whoa. Who has the most exciting Saturday nights of anyone you know? That’s right. It’s this girl.
If you need to wander around wondering about the ineffable “what next,” Tar-Jay is a pretty good place to do it – ooooh, like those stools, if I were building a new house I’d want stools like that as the kitchen chairs. Ooooh nice luminaria things. ooooh, nice napkins. Pretty towels.
Well, you get the idea. distract the poor brain with pretty shiny things and let it do it’s thing behind the scenes. Works for me.
Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.
