For some reason this old post was on my stats page today…I opened it and browsed through and it says things again that I continue to experience:
thank you persistent workers and players of WordPress!
(click on image or title for past post)
For some reason this old post was on my stats page today…I opened it and browsed through and it says things again that I continue to experience:
thank you persistent workers and players of WordPress!
(click on image or title for past post)
Then I dropped my voice – BOOM – right onto the sidewalk.
A glitter, a spritzing, a spark. A diffusion and ooze. It runs out.
Watch it pour along the surface, draining toward sewage.
Voice. A voice. My voice. Sploosh.
All the books I want are priceless.
Those I need – they cost too much.
I am a writer who learns.
I am a learner who writes.
I am a failure that loves.
I am a lover that fails.
It becomes apparent: Yes, I am. A parent.
The book I am not reading –
caught in a withdrawal.
That is, boundaried from writing.
Between abstraction, and empathy.
There lies a void, inevitably.
You can’t trust silence.
We rush to fill.
(That distant sound).
Therefore,
I read for conversation.
(don’t fulfill responsibilities)
Attention. Integrity. Inquiry. Response.
(-ability)
I simply tripped, a clumsiness
[I dropped my voice]
but I am here.
Enmeshed in words but unable.
(metadata lacking)
I’m no librarian.
Vague because I say so.
(my human apparatus little equipped for the overwhelm of data)
Ant in a kingdom
-of words-
of signifiers.
Less than that.
I wrap my brain around it.
Waving goodbye to body.
My voice drops.
For Orthodox Christian Men Discerning A Vocation
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Gospel Word Gardening in the Age of Decay