futurebird's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- it must be very weak and vulnerable I love poetry. But at times I�m inclined to hate it. Whatever it is in me that makes me clench my fist and bob my head with my eyes closed after reading words like: Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, from Mary Oliver�s Wild Geese it must be very weak and vulnerable, I think. I really don�t like to think of myself and such a feeble and emotional person, but the poetry shows me up. The worst part is that I know it won�t speak to everyone. Everyone is leaving Pittsburgh. Going to places where they'll be reunited with friends. I�ll be the guard who waits out these grey empty days. I�ll stay in this quiet hell and whisper poetry to myself until I make my face all ugly with tears. A pathetic sobbing thing too lost to use her paws to dry her face. It�s best to wait it out. All things will be born again. I�m too young to be on the road to death yet. I should be happy! 16:10:15 - 2000-12-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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