Sunday, July 10, 2011


If my door is shut, this means 'don't come in.'
I'd write to you, but who wants to read
the maudlin ramblings of a depressed middle-aged woman.
A publisher once scolded me for my punctuation.
I thought it was the least important thing
anyone had ever said to me. He said I should
choose a better name to be published under.
I resolve never to send him anything again.
Unfortunately he neither knows nor cares about this.
Don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry chants a litany inside my head
beneath thoughts of lunch, grammar, and lesson plans -
beneath anxiety about how anxious I am.
The signs of the times are all around us now, every day, every day.
Does anyone else notice this, or is it just me?
There will be earthquakes and famine, wars and reports of wars ...
maybe I will lose my house ... maybe my life ...
maybe my place will be taken by strangers I invited in out of pity,
before I realised they were raptors
their voices pipe like greedy birds
soon my name will change and I think I could move away
and no one would ever find me again ...
just disintegrate


Blogger Chris Never said...

Well I for one certainly hope you don't decide to disintegrate

So much unease and unrest in this, your life must be in such a state of disquiet at the moment, I feel for you my friend, I truly do.

*hugs* from a tattered bird is all I can offer *soft smile*

3:37 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

lol, you're getting feathers in my hair!

heh, it's not so bad. I just needed to vent. We'll be okay eventually. It's just tough getting through at the moment. It's hard to recover with the central city gone. You don't realise how much you identify with the city you live in. It's almost like a blank space is left in the middle of your psyche somehow. It seems weird to me because I would never have thought that 'place' was all that important to me.

5:17 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

I would feel much better if I had a job :)

5:18 PM  

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