Trieschmann tried to warn us that one cannot do with words what Picasso did with Art. Bit too late, in my case...
Fragmented, Sleep Deprived Thoughts on March the 7th:
An overworked mind is quite the arrogant, presumptuous enzyme...
It's my bloody anniversary. It falls apart in my mind.
Bloody - Blood - Sangre - Sangre del Salvador - Las Lagrimas de la Virgin - Notre Dame - By our Lady - Bloody
Anniversary - Anni - Versa - A Year and a Turn - A turn of a year.
A Turn of the Year, by Our Lady. She spins the wheel and it lands, 3-7-07
God - Magic - Magic. Today the occult wins out.
It's my bloody anniversary. The year turns again. I only told one person, would you believe it?
I went outside today and saw the setting sun. It dug its way between two houses, in a thicket of pine. I'd never seen it there before, and I never will again. I can see it from my driveway, but only once a year. Next year I will have forgotten about it. The year after that I'll be in Mizzou. I'll never give that sun through those pines a second thought.
I give them their moment, because they may never have another; Time, like love, like water... is something that must flow.
1 comment:
That sounds like a rather odd thing for Trischmann to say really o_O
Least in my head it seems that way.
Sorry for the late b-day wishes!
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