Saw a thought today. Leaked over the air. Funny about how it wanted to go away so it went away and funny about how it was gone. This is the end It said. And this was its end.
-M. Taggart
Saw a thought today. Leaked over the air. Funny about how it wanted to go away so it went away and funny about how it was gone. This is the end It said. And this was its end.
-M. Taggart
I need a word to hang my thought on.
Reformism clung to a mechanism.
Fingers talking; we can see them walk
when we close eyes enough to see.
The talking comes before all of this.
-M. Taggart
Nothing’s good enough. So, I write nothing. I write about a grandmother sitting alone on a boulder sipping air while watching you. You don’t care much about this, but you still think of her. As a girl she wore sun dresses which you admired. Kicking dirt, ignoring her. In your room you had thoughts that blanketed freedom.
-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/
Emily Dickinson wrote a line that is currently stuck at the front of my thoughts. It’s as if the thought is a shape and it’ll not come out unless otherwise known to not have been; or to be? Either way it’s a shape. Possible ever changing. All about a thought and how words and thought don’t need to coexist every day. Don’t we though? Live on, please, and look outside your window, once again handing poems down to the children; having never been inside? I lived near your house, Emily. I don’t know that I didn’t feel your presence, but I do know that’s it’s possible. And my thoughts, with their words, thank you.
-M. Taggart
When we beg for time to be over and get to the over and nothing changes it’s time to stop begging and to start understanding.
-M. Taggart
Some nights are different
than others
Some care less about you
-M. Taggart
copyright 2018
I believe one well written line changes the mood of the day. Much like when a moment so clearly takes place that you realize everything has just become forever different. And you’re either fine with it, or not, either way it is done.
Sent from my iPhone
It’s hard keeping memories. They don’t always like us and sometimes
they are alive and know they are and when we don’t let them be they
then decide they’ll not let us be, so we twist and turn them around trying
to make them be what we needed them to be from the very beginning.
-M. Taggart
That’s an odd happening
Listening to difficulty
when there wasn’t any
-M. Taggart