"I do not portray being: I portray passing; not the passing from one age to another, or, as the people say, from seven years to seven years, but from day to day, from minute to minute. My history needs to be adapted to the moment. I may presently change, not only by fortune, but also by intention. This is a record of various changeable occurrences, and of irresolute and, when it so befalls, contradictory ideas." - Montaigne
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
Adjacent to the School in Green Bay
by ~Bersenyev
Unlike most places, Green Bay had this indescribable clearness that wouldn’t be missed in any other place: the sky was stale with perverted oxygen molecules that found themselves on the soccer fields of the nearby elementary school; the sun beat down rather than shined; and there was this distinct feeling of isolation that only a whistling empty lot could make you feel. As far as the eye could see, nothing, upon nothing but perhaps trees, asphalt, and hills upon hills with green grass – on top of this were buildings made of limestone. Upon one of these hills was a plateau where my school rested, I sat on the adjace
Chicago Poems: 2
Tell me I’m strange.
Tell me I’m wonderful.
I don’t want to know —
That I am afraid of
Possible shores
And countless mountains.
Tell me I’m brave.
Tell me I’m fruitless.
Yet shield me from the truth —
That I’m hopelessly
Lost in this
Thick jungle.
80% of my Facebook newsfeed.
Chicago Poems: 1
In a vague, literary sense,
I hope all ideals go away.
I wish that my dreams
become intertwined with the wind,
and that they are carried off
into different places and grow and dim.
That’s where I want to be — in the wind.
Flotation Toy Warning - Happy 13
In the hall I heard, your faints falling
Your trial and my corrections made
You had all the prayers of my loose heart
You have all the prayers of once had gone
No I was not there on the church stairs
The wind in my hair, a flood through my tear
No I was not there on the church stairs
The wind in my hair, a flood through my tear
Me I wanted, I wanted the right time
Me I wanted, I wanted the fire in line
Me I wanted, I wanted the right time
Me I wanted, I wanted the fire in line
Uptown, the street’s in a calming way / And outside is warm as a bed with a maid / And I find it’s all our waves and raves / That makes the days go on this way
I heard the sad sound of words / Spoken from a beak of a wise old bird / Uptown, the streets are kept afloat / Our ground never leaves me alone
He means well, saying, / I’ve got stories of wine, superb / And of course my childhood, forks and knives / And a hospital bed, where I turned my life over and over again
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ‘tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades
Story: To Tell and Listen.: "Bright Star" by John Keats
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art -
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen…
