Philosophy Poetry Madness — Dust
Those clumsy words that really don’t seem to do anything but ricochet off one another in fits of laughter or tears, or during sex, or when seeing one of Rembrandt’s self-portraits on a live canvas for the first time, or any time, or of drunkenness or empty-headedness–what are they? Reminders that even god godself, even the holy, becomes sloppy at times.
A human being-question chasing after both God and nothingness. The internet is a disaster, but our starlessness might teach us something. I welcome our constant experimenting with ourselves with open arms, for ultimately they are attempts of life at living and growing in life. My dwelling is in Key West, while the dwellings of my loves are Indiana, New Mexico, Texas, Massachusetts and Arizona. These spaces are nothing. Love abides and love embraces. View all posts by Richard Q
Love the Dust