-M. Taggart’s Odd Walking Thoughts #GoodLuck

We had a hard time today with the trigger and the mongering
looking like a door in the way of nothing yet sitting not still
in our minds while we drove: snow looks different when you
kill it- nothing looks so very much like exactly how they are-
do we think It did that on purpose? It’s most likely It was
all about not we, and how It puts It’s shoes on while forgetting.

-M. Taggart

Poem by M. Taggart

I’m thrilled to share with everyone that a poem of mine has just been published on MasticadoresUSA. Thank you, Gabriela!

MasticadoresUsa // Editor: Barbara Leonhard

Image: Gavin Fishing – the son of the author

by M. Taggart
[author’s site]

Wrapped around a child’s fishing pole, lives
a vibration of time steadily stamping out
a form of a memory. Time, which floats in
and out of the child’s consciousness while
inhaling the smell of pond water
mixed with the blue sky covering the tops
of the pine trees- he does wonder about time.
When does time stop.
How do we know when it’s time to go and
when does time think about us. How does
time work and why is there time. Why is
there anything. He felt a nibble on the end
of his line. The wind sent small rippling waves
toward the shoreline. He stood, with his boots
submerged only a few inches, and watched as the
wind calmly pushed the murky water passed him.
The nibbling had ceased. He stood…

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