His voice wouldn’t let be. The door was closed. Not locked. Steam rose and there was more. We thought of leaves we knew and how to step on them. Some would crack and you could nearly hear them die. If you picked the leaf up, and studied the veins, we saw where they were cut. We felt badly for the leaf and asked, ‘Can we do differently?’ and the leaf did not reply.
The most intelligent We is forgotten when the trampling herd comes – M. Taggart
Photo taken by me.
Enjoy feminism do you? Me too. Especially the equality part.
Enjoy Religion do you? Me too. Especially the morals part.
Is your head of church female? No? Ask Why.
Welcome to my mother fucking pulpit.
You can have one structure, but not one thought. You can do this and there can be many. It’s not church. Though, it may be church and they may say much. If this structure has a home and the home is you and you have many, it’s fine. This happens. It’s not often we get to speak about this, but here we are, collectively, and working. If the structure were a set of bones, and we dug them, and studied them we’d see little. When will this stop.
White blemishes memory-
They’d like to see-
An odd apple fell onto a lap. The lap was among many whom don’t understand. They shook the apple off. They felt it was grossly misshapen and discolored. The apple was confused and rolled along the ground. The apple wondered if abandonment is large enough to include.
There’s a place to view. It’s beneath the floor. If you know this, it’s you. If another lays their head on this floor and finds your place, what then? We dove deep and saw much and now we ask the floor, “Why did you betray us?” and the floor replied, “We also were betrayed. Can you help?” It was early morning and the floor felt cool on the face. The floor shouldn’t be speaking but there wasn’t anyone else to ask.
To read more Odd Walking Thoughts-
Knees are bent-
Give us words which make us think. Tell us bacon is frying in the iron skillet. Tell us we feel vibrant and that our stomach’s groan. Tell us the bacon has been eaten and we are ready for this day. It is sunny. Clouds have yet to form. We walk into the field.
This book helped me to pack and move. If ever there was a modern story worth reading, it’s this. In bookstores I find much fluff. This is especially true with modern writers. Fluff. Happening happenstance concerning nothing of value. In this most impressive story, the author puts the writers of fluff, to shame. Jeanette writes without compromise. She is strong. Her writing is strong. Read this book.
I think Hemingway would be proud.