Dusk as cathedral.

October 2013.

I have always gone
looking for poetry;
I have, right now,
windows full of backyards
full of trees and I am
in love (still), I am doing
everything exactly (maybe)
as a twenty-something in
2013 is supposed to --
going to my stupid job,
chasing cheap food,
chasing poetry. Yesterday
I realized I had gone
three days
without conversation.
Once there was a life,
and in that life was a night,
in which there was loneliness,
a bicycle, stars, fear,
a playground. There was a sister.
And once there was morning,
with breakfast and
a book of poetry.

Read in February 2014

1. Peace Begins Here: Palestinians and Israelis Listening to Each Other, by Thich Nhat Hanh

2. Letters to a Young Poet, by Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. M.D. Herter Norton

*Titles link to the pertinent Goodreads page — feel free to add me as a friend.

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