September 22nd, 2005

gamiila sig #2

(no subject)

If you see this, post a poem in your own LJ.


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Choosing to think of it

Today, ten thousand people will die
and their small replacements will bring joy
and this will make sense to someone
removed from any sense of loss.
I, too, will die a little and carry on,
doing some paperwork, driving myself
home. The sky is simply overcast,
nothing is any less than it was
yesterday or the day before. In short,
there's no reason or every reason
why I'm choosing to think of this now.
The short-lived holiness
true lovers know, making them unaccountable
except to spirit and themselves--suddenly
I want to be that insufferable and selfish,
that sharpened and tuned.
I'm going to think of what it means
to be an animal crossing a highway,
to be a human without a useful prayer
setting off on one of those journeys
we humans take. I don't expect anything
to change. I just want to be filled up
a little more with what exists,
tipped toward the laughter which understands
I'm nothing and all there is.
By evening, the promised storm
will arrive. A few in small boats
will be taken by surprise.
There will be survivors, and even they will die.

-- Stephen Dunn
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gamiila sig #2

Cada mañana estoy quebrado

When the high point of your day has been the fire drill, surely that must be proof if proof were needed that it's time to get out of there -- and I'll take steps to secure my getaway right after the tour ends. I'm suffering from delayed reaction to the shock of not getting the Secret Service job. I was more or less alright, if slightly incredulous, last week; but this week has just crawled past. I hate having to get up and get on the train again every morning, and now that another season's started, I'm usually halfway to my destination already before sunrise -- I hate having to leave home in what feels like the middle of the night, and it isn't even full-on winter yet!

On second thought...that fire drill might not have been today's best bit, after all...but no! I can't be crushing on my physiotherapist, even if he's attractive, single and a terrible flirt -- can I?

I wonder what's keeping my copy of Back to the Vortex: the Unofficial and Unauthorised Guide to Doctor Who 2005, which I ordered from the Telos website over a week ago. Every day I hurry home in anticipation, and each day I'm disappointed. Oh well. Perhaps it'll be here tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Eric's very quietly released his solo album. I'll very quietly wait until I see him (only two more weeks!) before purchasing it.
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