A smile can float from one to another without permission, as the can kicks the boy’s boot just after she grinned in his direction while the run-on wind carries with it a notice which harbors the reasoning for understanding the whisper of the third in line of the trinity even when there’s no wind at all- don’t you see.
-M. Taggart
“Does a door know the other side of itself if never opened? I’m not sure. What if we are that while viewing a mirror. Who’s who and what’s when?” The man sat upright in his bed. It was late and the room was dark. His thoughts, spinning wildly out of control, pushed for his reality to pause itself with fear of acknowledgment of what’s to come. It was time for transition. Time to leave what was for what now is, and he wasn’t ready.
“Am I a door? And where’s my mirror? I’ll look at it in the dark.”
-M. Taggart
Lay us near the side of our brook. We’ll listen and observe a thing burn inside, like we did. Turn again in the mud, smell the ferns, wash the ‘self’, and watch as soul sinks in. Man in a white coat wants to ask how, doesn’t matter much. He’ll be here, or not, again. Seems to us a brook is a fine place to be. It’s always about something. So we see, and we do what there is to do about the seeing until, finality.
-M. Taggart
I like to look at the sky without a voice in my ear. A simple thing, fingers on wood, a thing in a word, while an eye watches a few others. It’s nothing that needs to be remembered, other than the memory itself, and the one who took hold of creation. Isn’t it nice when you sit on a step, alone, at night, and see whatever is given without judgement.
-M. Taggart
I’ll be traveling this weekend for my book signing on Saturday! I’m excited! It’s looking like we’re going to flood the brewery where the event is taking place. Wish me luck! Cheers everyone!
It’s not that we hear things, it’s that things hear us. Toss a thought outside the mold, little red lines aligned for footsteps are followed by vocals. We’re as certain of this as we are as certain about pinholes filling light into darkness. Deep in the darkness, sitting in a corner, they prepare deceptive smiles and gestures. Here, they practice with nothing to see. “I want,” they whisper.
-M. Taggart
No, I’m fine, just don’t be like how I was today. The boy looked in the pool of water he’d been stepping in. He lifted his boot from the water and watched the rings form and push outwards, “No! Outward!” His father slammed the door. The boy smashed hit boot into the ringlets with no face. A space fell between them all.
-M. Taggart
Watch as I take the trash out. My slippers are beaten and beautiful. I came from a shack much like a house. I smile. The heads wobble and click as I walk; my appearance, it isn’t much. My gums mash side to side and my eyes water. But I walk to the dumpster anyway.
-M. Taggart
More of -M. Taggart’s Odd Walking Thoughts:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/category/odd-walking-thoughts/
