Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Into The Same River Twice

Few things are as moving to me as remembering Elvis shooting his television. Well, maybe members of the so-called peace churches training dogs and riding bikes. We climb hills only to see more hills and our legs are tired and now what. You cannot leap off the same bridge into the same river twice.

Heraclitus sends regrets. One apologizes to God in the moonlight, one contemplates an act of violence. Rebellion? Standing near the willows I imagined I heard deer breathing and crows shifting in their nests atop the pine trees.

Childhood is a photograph. All spirals are reminiscent of what decline? In this sentence, an old friend is held and remembered. Much like swimming in the creek, much like our knuckles after fighting.

The horse lifted its head as if anticipating the gunshot. What ends, ends well. Cheers rose, one dreams of a rose. One walks a long way in the dark to find a home where it is quiet and the soup rests on the stove all night.

Have me will you? The dead return for no reason other than to sip the joyful dram we can't surrender. Drama? No, I never turned to you for anything you weren't already giving.

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