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THE LAST TIME
The last time we spoke you asked me when the end was coming. I didn’t have a good answer for you, wasn’t even quite sure what you meant by the question, the end of what? Of time, of your life or mine, or merely the end of a conversation we had been carrying on for…
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UNCOUPLED
Hope lies, she says, somewhere between anticipation and boredom, and in the daily muck and mire so few want to look closely enough to discover its presence, though it promises deeply desired rewards. He says he prefers faith, for it requires less work, just state the desired outcome and believe, as deeply as you can,…
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BORDER
He wants to know why we draw a distinction between dreams and what we like to call reality, as if the former is somehow less than real. We want to laugh at him, but we listen anyway. If all my senses end up in my mind then all that is real is real only in…
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THOSE WHO CAN’T DO (OR TEACH)
“You know,” she said, “it is the critics, they are the real problem, all holy and self-proclaimed arbiters of taste, deciding what is and is not art, as if God spoke late one night and declared to each one that he or she and only he or she would determine what is art.” I wanted…
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IS THERE AN ECHO IN HERE?
He said to her, “you know it really irritates me how you always seem to repeat yourself. Say it once and that’s enough.” She paused, thought about his comment, then said, “You know, despite what you say, I don’t, I don’t really, but nuance is something that always seems just beyond your comprehension.” He bristled,…
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TUESDAYS ONLY
Everything important, he declared, should happen on a Tuesday. Wednesday, he explained, was saddled with a deep burden of middleness, rendering it unfit for much else. Friday simply couldn’t be trusted, since five o’clock everywhere came earlier and earlier each year it seemed. The weekend was for battling Sabbaths and there would be no winners…
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OF THEE I SING
My ancestors stole your tongue and left you mute in a world you could not grasp. Now as I search for words of forgiveness I can find none, for my voice is clogged with…
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ANGUO’S “THE MASTER’S FLESH IS STILL WARM”
If you are asked “who are you?” how will you reply, and who is the person asking the question? If you answer, you are blind if you say nothing you speak loudly. The sage will tell you that there is no you and if you doubt him he will hold up a mirror and ask…
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NOT
Today I will hope to master, if only for a brief moment, not not being attached to thoughts, but recognizing them and letting them pass, since the thought of recognition must replace the thought that was recognized, not trying for anything on the cushion including not trying to not try for anything for that is…
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TMI
He lived in a world of acronyms. He hated them. He knew they were ubiquitous and becoming more so. Modern discourse, some said, couldn’t happen without them, since modern discourse didn’t involve people speaking words, but devices interacting. Though how a PDA could be LMAO was beyond him. Still he knew all about FIFO and…
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an old writer and his words 