Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
ME!!!!!!!!! Okay... time to get over me, myself and I. A bit depressed or calm? What's the difference? I am writing. I am getting out. I'm ignoring the pile of dirty shirts. I promise I'll take them to the laundromat. I promise I'll lose 30 pounds (2 stone). I eat parsnips and gallo pinto. I drink too much coffee. It is snowing out. What I wrote (edited) in my Journal to Gary (page 2855): Snow sifts through the valley. The sky has become bored in the mountains, descended to rest on the hills. It's cold up there, clouds whimper. Wrapping itself with a blanket of ermine, all turns to white. In the valley warm pavement glistens, listens to the soft-shoe of flakes, be patient, we will cover you too. Crows take off in flight in-gathering all color, taking it with them, out-of-sight. Winter's-light fills the valley, the nebulous grey, a soft shade of grey, almost white. Snow-in-the-mountains, snow-on-the-hills. The river tugs at the duvet and the valley snuggles under. Flakes as light as goose feathers, a soft-sift, no-shadow, a sparkle almost bright. So... called Esfan; called Nick. Mandy didn't answer. Spoke to my mother and aunt. When I say no-one calls me, it's in the context of once-upon-a-life, I lived though the phone and going over to friends. Now I communicate through facebook... but; I feel more isolated. That's why visiting the coffee shops and Senior Center is so important. I can confirm what my former-friends only suspect ...that I still exist. 25,084 |