Odd Walking Thoughts – Brilliant Emily

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

Emily D

Poem-

I just wrote a short story.
It was complete shit so I destroyed it.
I kept thinking about how we drive
down the highway at 95 MPH
and somehow, our fucking brains are able
to process every damn blade of grass,
every car slower than us, every grumpy face
we look at as we pass, and never do we
take time to think about how we’re able
to understand when to apply the brakes
while observing two lines side by side, which
aren’t that, but the number eleven instead.

-M. Taggart

poem-

Our tears heard themselves today. They didn’t ask how. They were there when they landed. Know not what you can see within yourself while yourself can’t see and ask again how do we listen to these tears once more. While once more finds you alone.

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts – Beyond Thought

The boy climbed out of his window and onto the large tree and quickly made his way to the ground. He ran to the woods. He needed to sit on his rock overlooking the river. He pushed his small frame as hard and fast as it could carry him. The words were rimming in circles within his mind and now gathering pace toward the tip of his tongue. Not yet. Not yet! You will only speak them first once. Finally, his rock in view, an overwhelming feeling of joy perched in his chest; he reached the top of his rock and lay on his back to catch his breath. Sitting up, viewing the river, he spoke the words which were brimming in circles within his mind and pushing their way to the tip of his tongue- No one had given these words to him and he had never heard anything like them. He opened his mouth, ready to watch them fly, “Can memories live beyond thought?” The tiny hairs stood on his arms. A leaf fluttered slightly more north from the smallest push of air. The leaf landed nearly silently into the river. Having changed the world.

-M. Taggart
copyright 2018

Odd Walking Thoughts

Wasted space happened in our thought. I filed it away. Listening to no music while thinking of it. Want to keep your self. self. It’s the strangest thing when you leave.¬†We walk in the smell. The leaves this time of year are rotting on the soles of our boots. We carve your remanence with a knife.

-M. Taggart
copyright 2017