December 5, 2004

  • We can begin this again.  We haven’t gone so far.  Except for the word disorder.  The disquiet  engendered  by obtuse fulminations.  Did I say I love you?   Did I not aver, articulate, sound out, enunciate?  They say words get in the way.  And for that, they use words to say.  I ask: who are they?  Those that huddle in the shadow of answers to questions they’re afraid to ask.  Those that drink the wine to dire drunk instead of stoning the sun of grape.  Those who die wondering why they’re wondering why they’re back where they began.


     


    Begin.  To live again.

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