Friday, June 13

What falls away is always. And is near.
Words linger at the edge of my mind as poetry and I hear their echo in other people's lives.

I've read far too many poems to not hear pieces of them when I read something good. And this is what I heard:
When I think of a landscape I am thinking of a time.
When I talk of taking a trip I mean forever.

All the rain here in Boston makes the perfect backdrop for all this melancholy reading. Back to our regularly scheduled smart-ass tomorrow.

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