words, words, words
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If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?
P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.
raisin@gmail.com
albums:
Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
songs:
Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork
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Friday, October 04, 2002
I walk here sometimes
shirtless, after an evening out,
This bridge over I-44
the repaved Route 66
(not quite as glamorous)
which ends maybe 200 yards from here.
I have to see it, the twin lights
of each car or truck
the possible exits,
turn to see it
begin westward.
I have to hear it
rushing rumbling roaring,
wheels and engines and asphalt.
I feel it, through the bridge,
the breeze and pistoned heat.
I start to sense it
imagine the drivers
and passengers, travelers,
the goods in the semi
or family minivan.
I have driven this, too.
I change, become one of them
a car
dog in the backseat
wanderer;
the movement carries me,
each car a drop of water,
the road a Mississippi.
After too much,
after too much,
I return to myself.
It feels good to stay still.
1:47 PM
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