I think there can be awe between people but to look a stranger in the eye seems to be an offense as if we must pretend we do not exist to one another and there are crowds which flutter by the beggars on the street collecting nickels and dimes, maybe, from people dropping them coldly into cups on their way to drop 300, 400 dollars on full bags of things no one needs I think there can be awe between people but so seldom do I see their souls that I wonder if here the soul shrivels up as it marches down the same conveyor belts where people furrow their eyebrows if you smile and one beggar on the street was writing poetry in small cursive I couldn't read as I passed but I thought she might be much more wise than I'd ever be, observing people all day every day as they run so quickly to nowhere important, not knowing how much they have to be grateful for if even they have a bite to eat today, and art is a window into so much beauty, into so much that transcends time and place and selves; I think there is awe in people and in art but without love all of it, all of this, is nothing
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We Are Drowning, How Should We Kill Our Time?
PoetryThis collection of stream of consciousness prose was written during a very special time in my life. I left the city following a massive burnout, and lived in the country for months. I began a garden, cut most of my ties to the outside world, and wro...
