And Honest Rapport –

I write what I know. I’ve learned that I enjoy people who don’t tell about what they don’t know. So, it turn, I write what I know while avoiding what little I know not about. Somewhere in there lives a story. Not long ago I watched a man run over a blank spot in the snow which happened to be the artesian well. The electrical cord was cut cleanly enough. The man told me, “I don’t know a thing about how to fix this. But, I know a man who does.” He and I then shared a whiskey on his bar. The bar happened to reside in the house I grew up in and the man happens to be my mother’s husband. How little we know is not the measure of us. Not any of us. It’s the little we know that we are honest about that will be remembered.

Odd Walking Thoughts

A child screams but no one does a thing besides scream back to grow up. Patience is a virtue unless you’re an adult who wishes it upon a child to be just, like, them,. eventually the child becomes a young person remembering having screamed with hurt. But this child won’t be the same. This child will be the one adult to not ignore the screaming. And the hills walk on without looking down, so they say.

-M. Taggart

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https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/m-taggart/

 

Odd Walking Thoughts

She trampled and ran along feeling tall ferns; green and narrow at the tops, sending her palms into realization of being. She smiled as she ran. Her mother asked that she not run to the brook, but that’s where she was going and where she was now. “Go on little thought and be what you were before.” She said to the babbling water. A frog hopped near and asked, “What was it, it was not now, before?” She picked a yellow flower, placed it near the frog to enjoy, turned and said her hello while walking away.

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts

“I thought all the time about the doing of it until I did the doing of it and now I have nothing left to think about.” The boy stepped on the ant. There will be more, he thought. The sun was high and very hot. It looked as though it had burned into the most brilliant light that it was no longer the sun, but a version of light that he could walk into. Not a furnace flowering at all. Now that he found a new thought to think about he wanted the ant back because he was feeling the loss of it and realized he had taken it away from seeing the not sun.

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts – The yellow

We walk in streets filled with people looking at their hands to find purpose when purpose looks back, but not from a hand. A drop of rain lands on the nose of a little girl. She smiles and tries to lick the drop. Her yellow rain jacket glistens while she jumps in a puddle to see her creation. ‘Mommy, did you see that?’ Her mother, didn’t see, ‘I’m busy reading.’ ‘But a rain drop landed right on my nose and then I couldn’t lick it. It dropped right into the puddle and I wanted to know where it was, but couldn’t tell, so I stomped on the puddle to find it and it’s definitely done being a rain drop.’ her smile looked at her mother while her mother looked at her hand.

-M. Taggart

 

Odd Walking Thoughts

It’s time to let sit what sits and watch. Memories comb our nerves while our sitting becomes lack thereof. A someone views a chair that moves at will upon two legs. They think about how eleven is only two lines standing next to one another, yet no one seems to notice. So they allow the chair to continue on. The chair is searching for a name while the walk of confidence has not ended.

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts

The fertile river bank and mossy mounds watch as a jogger constantly steps on conscience ground; while looking ever more tabetic. The stars yawn having seen this before. Knowing the process of eternity comes once again for its finality. As a gentle wind whispers, ‘Forever is much like diminishing moonlight beckoning you to follow.’

-M. Taggart

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Odd Walking Thoughts

Thank you tomorrow. I’ve seen you today.¬† Scraping noise with knuckles when things were what they weren’t. Don’t again Ask that we don’t say and speak what we do. Otherwise everything becomes all mixed up. So let’s just let’s say that we’ve, the both of us, come from the same time and will again. And again. And until then. We’ll watch all of the leaves fall.

-M. Taggart

odd walking thoughts

-a¬†strangeness followed him deep into the woods. he wished it was fully dark. he wanted the thickness of its empty comfort. the moon however dispersed nighttime light onto every shadow. he sat on a stump and tried to watch his thoughts. “what do you do with your thoughts?” he asked a tree. the tree replied, “as soon as you have one, it is alive. it’s never again going to not be. you’ve born possible greatness. give your thoughts life and watch them be.”

-M. Taggart
copyright 2018

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https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/m-taggart/