I've become a vegetarian, finally. I'm on day eight. (I accidently swallowed abotu 2% of the clam content in my clam chowder today, though. It was not as easy to avoid as I thought. No more soup for me!).
I'm moving in a couple of days, to a house that is approx. 1/4 mile away from the current one. That's fun.
Here are two poems I wrote today.
They were written so close together chronologically, that I explored similar themes, but they cover new ground for me.
Weeping in the Park upon Seeing the Leaves Fall to Death
- Why must tears be warm?
Warmth: an implication of the old cliché
of 'Home,' a continuation, something happy.
Cold is the sensation of death and corpses,
vast emptiness, desolate nothing.
But as I sit here, crying warm tears, I
am reminded that we cry because we
I hear two voices in the tired, old
there is the bad voice, weight of
age; and there is the implication
of a time when it had a power, a
revealer of beauty, an interpreter
artistry and words.
It is so sad that soem must die before
their real death, the death of a man long
by a name, slowly fading into a shelter of dust, struggling with
strong fingers to grrasp ephemeral memories
to keep from falling off the soft jagged cliff.