Sunday, August 28, 2011

Better Able To Breathe

We picked up broken chairs all morning and beneath one found a picture of your grandmother when she was young and living in an orphanage in Boston. Life is what's behind what happens. A lowish rumble of thunder, the silver tantrum of wind and rain. It was like the Lord tossing bracelets at a people he'd forgotten. Contractions have their place.

We visited other states and returned unimpressed. Poetry is a lot more fun when you're not trying to impress other poets. The inherent bias of sentences for time is what's blocking you right now. Don't be new, be you. What if waking up is like lilac, which is to say, beautiful and all, but a bit on the brief side?

Opportunity slips in without knocking. You can fall into anything, not just love. We watch a lot of television but who really cares? He could take or leave alcohol and preferred to take it, okay? Remember the guy who walked into the zendo just as sesshin was ending and said loudly "can somebody tell me how to find route seven?"

Drops of rain on each pane of glass, perfectly placed. Take note of who you fight with in your mind - they're going to be your best teachers. Peaches, blueberries, appointments closer to noon. We are always angling for what did you say? The storm passed and in its wake we were cooler, better able to breathe.

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