near between

untitled-1


a white line
that I have been telling myself 
over and over again
is a border between me and
this madness of transport
in the background
that i cannot fuzz out anymore





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12 thoughts on “near between

    • Thank you, Ashley–I was thinking (and feeling?) more bittersweet acceptance, but I’ll grant these things are usually rather mixed up and often hard to differentiate. Which is why, of course, we do things like write poems…

    • Thank you, Ashley–I was thinking (and feeling?) more bittersweet acceptance, but I’ll grant these things are usually rather mixed up and often hard to differentiate. Which is why, of course, we do things like write poems…

  1. I think there is a strange and wonderful light in the moment when the border itself becomes a bridge between clarity and madness where we may sometimes find our poems, songs and the best part of ourselves. This is a picture of the highest quality and a poem to match.

    • Thank you Ron for these kind words.

      Yes. I am much intrigued by edges, verges, margins. This thin skin within which we reside. The outer-most layer of our physical bodies, the outer-most layer of our brains, and again this outer-most infinitesimal layer of our tiny little ball of rock in this exceedingly, overwhelmingly gigantic universe. It is from this tiniest place of tension and friction that our creation comes from. And it is astounding that such a thing is so. It makes even our complaints, our plaints, even our deepest woes into things of wonder.

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