A Journal of Sorts
"(Often it seems I am writing about a romantic relationship when I am not. This is because I use the second person. The "you" is so intimate..). My life sometimes seems to me a reaction to life, as if I am documenting my fleeting experience (drenched in nostalgia and longing). But there are many ways to have a valuable life..." ~ Lori Carson ~ |
something lost whatever words of wisdom or folly destined to go here, they were absorbed into the river of time unwritten, forgotten, left as thought undisturbed by expression... but I do have some undeniable recollections that draw me in late at night... distant callings, ancient fallings, romantic dreams and memories... the best of times, the worst of times, and far far better things... downtown brownstones concrete steps distant eyes I saw a Minotaur in New York City he wanted more than anyone could know to know the love in a woman's heart to fly to touch the sun like the pillars of glass and stone above the peaks of glass and stone and ivy grows up cold brick walls and people decorate their stalls and divided by plaster walls so many phones that no one calls if you've ever lived in New York City you know something no one else can know in the presense of so many people squeezed so close together so many so alone and ivy grows up cold brick walls and people decorate their stalls and divided by plaster walls so many phones that no one calls walking down the street in New York City you feel something no one else can know only cars and footsteps break the silence brushed by so many people you'll never know and ivy grows up cold brick walls and people decorate their stalls and divided by plaster walls so many phones that no one calls if you ever loved in New York City you've grown something only you can know embraced by the passion of strangers and the dangers of blood flows in the news the siren shreaks on subway platforms no one speaks the energy of love and tension and a walk in the park is an adventure city lights and city pains city tears and city rains city fears and city highs city dreams and city skies mystery... surprise and ivy grows up cold brick walls and people decorate their stalls and divided by plaster walls so many phones that no one calls if you ever cried in New York City you've lost something no one else can know consumed by the vacuum of strangers indifference always shows and ivy grows up cold brick walls and people decorate their stalls and divided by plaster walls so many phones that no one calls downtown brownstones concrete steps distance eyes I saw a Minotaur in New York City... |
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