In honor of a story's beginning, today I try to begin again.
recollection of meditation
the house creaks beneath the power of winter winds
follow your breath
in
out
slower
what is breath?
it is nothing and everything until I inhale
and then exhale
then it is breath
and still
nothing and everything
stop thinking and be like the exhale
disappear
how long have I been staring at the brown weeds beyond the fence?
Where did the purple spot of light go?
That was cool
It sounds like ghosts are walking around upstairs
stop thinking
stop
damn, forgot to turn the phone off.
I'll begin again tomorrow.
7 comments:
Shouldn't you either be a., packing, or b., finishing that thing you've started and done so well on lately? Hmm? :-) Or even doctoring the bite marks on ye olde shins?? ;-p
I like this (though I'm not sure how it fits in with the link). I think you're fudging a bit again and being non-committal--to poem or to prose, that is the question--but I'm "down" with it... dog?!?
Stream of consciousness while trying to be unconscious is what I call it...lol. Actually just trying to get back to writing something after being so distracted by the A,B & C's that you mentioned.
Though, you do have a good point about being non-committal. Poetry, after all, does terrify me in the same way as standing naked on a brightly lit stage would terrify me. Hence my exotic dancing career never getting off the ground.
:-P
How wonderful to take time to, for even a moment, stop the work and things to do and just breathe, write a few lines, let it come and be.
Not sure how it fits in with the link? It IS the link. Honey, that's what I call meditation. If you think it's something else, well then that's just what you think!
What a peaceful thing to read.
...except for the phone.
Exotic dancing career. Oh, I knew you loved me, somewhere deep down in that place that a girl should be afraid to go. Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my... all the ammunition you give a chap!
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