Now

Bullion Grey
Imaginateur

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Now

In the sun I watched as the day unfolded, a woman leaving her home to probably go to work, a man wandering the 7/11 parking lot seemingly lost but finding his way to each patron most likely asking for money or food; a snappy looking watch salesman skiping out of a bmw with smoothness and grace heading for the watch store next to the 7/11, men working on a roof two blocks down with hot oil burning and smoke churning as if the fires of hell were reduced to the water resisting options that the customer below had ordered, and a bank clock in digital numbers lit by light bulbs instead of the new fangled neon i always see telling me that its later than its ever been.

Poetry Speaks
http://www.kavitanjali.com/
rcaug02/isearchfor.htm

Old blognotes:
http://notesfromforever.blogspot.
com/2004_12_01_archive.html

I feel like I am standing always on the edge of forever, where its cold and dark with distant possibilities twinkling in the far beyond. Alone, and silent, as if waiting for some wonderful miracle or passing meteor where not to many stand, too long.

The other day I thought a moment that life was a session of unknown possibility birthing into undreamed probabilities then passing us like cars in rush hour into realized memories.

I can hear the tick of the clock, chugging its way past noon. Cars whisper past outside. Occasional voices of passersby laughing or chatting. I can hear the claws of the black crows landing on my wooden porch, arguing with each other...probably about which one will have first dibbs. And the tap-click of each letter as I write this. I will spend another day alone, in silence, except maybe for a quick trip to the store for chili and sourdough bread with garlic.