Odd Walking Thoughts

Make a thing. Put it there. Next to the stone. Have you ever seen such a a thing? The thing held all the knowing- Having been put next to the stone. Now the knowing wishes to be. Have you ever sat outside, on the deck, in the middle of the night, and listened to anything that was willing to be? And the knowing was the maker of the sounds?

-M. Taggart

 

Odd Walking Thoughts – Pieces

Everything we remember, we hid from. Could this have actually happened? Was this us? We pretend that it isn’t and continue on, limitless. A broken branch. A leaf, brittle from lack of water, separated and beaten until crushed. Pieces and pieces of itself sprinkled about the ground; some being lifted by wind and carried to new places. Each though, to grow again. To once more know itself, with hope for the better.

A Poem – We

The individual is gone-
A distinct adventure-
Watch – another cubicle erected

What’s wrong with dust?
First sunrise to show the rest-
Weathered, exhausted, satisfied-

Do we need to consult on words-
Patch the warriors mouths with more-
But then, they never were

What’s wrong with the hoe and wishing for rain?
The seeds show strength when growth continues-
Can we go back

It’s gray – We can see our breath
We are ahead of the morning