You can read it and know the words, or you can’t read them and feel them. Take your pick. -M. Taggart
It doesn’t take much.
A flip of a few words.
Blank pages turned different,
with the imprints of thought.
Think of the voices running
along every crevice of every mind
and remember about how a furrowed
brow tossed off a difference
only because it had been seen by another.
Sleep with the breeze just enough to embrace.
Some people Love.
Some hate, choking on vile they created.
A few dance in and out,
looking at things that look back.
I like to think, maybe, about a laugh
I didn’t know, then speak it into being.
For the ones who hate without knowing-
That’ll be for them to solve.
Death is but stitch in the side.
It doesn’t end.
But our memory will be there.
A joyous half-thought uplifted the remaining-
Having slothed meaninglessly about,
Until an overspill of the joyous half became to be-
A chain reaction of overcoming the slothful
triggered an alarm of discontinuation
which was heard, and felt, and seen; a rise
was born from the mouths of echos.
I am nothing
other than myself,
and I am very comfortably
It’s 30 degrees. This is literally what I’m doing right now. Mid-day, Friday November the 8th. We’re burning downed branches on our property. Megan just went inside to take a shower. And yes, that’s whiskey in the background.
I live an enchanted life. If my childhood torture taught me anything, it’s that societal rules don’t actually exist.
Make your own.
In a million ways one thing can happen, but once the one thing has happened, it’s the only one. -M. Taggart
some things stay crooked in a thought
I’m hoping someone is still alive
Call has been made
while i listen to my young son sing downstairs
While i have a beer
While i’m just fine
Can you sit with me, thought?
please, stay a minute.
There’s nothing to look at so we climb our coats and staff our hands with envy. Smiling beautiful teeth to not forget. What are they selling as we drink this sweet sugar down. A mountain of things ringing in the air, some thirty things ago, filing non. So we stop. Here, or another place, and you see or you don’t. Congrats to the sunrise happening.
I’ve never died. I want to. I want to see. -M. Taggart