Philosophy Poetry Madness — Dust
She started to call things beautiful which weren't
Like this whole rotten patch on the table
It was really a symbol of the whole world's decaying
But she called it beautiful and relished the word as she said it.
In fact, it was as though she were saying the word
For the first time. The mold on the table
Danced in response to the freshness of language
The house fell apart into a garden of spores
The girls were overjoyed that there was accuracy
In the fables she told.
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