Friday, September 10, 2004


after much thought, it has occurred to me that the better thoughts are best portrayed with patience at the hull when one is transferring them to clay-- the clay of words, that bend with winds unseen, that take the shape of minds yet to exist, yet to recall such feelings as are twisted here in lines made black, or white or otherwise, and twist' by centuries of stone-graved meaning, whispering thought to bone and likening birds to wit. i have learned more from the face of words, than from the work of sight done by the eyes alone-- the lonely, missing eyes, adrift in the lake of air we call this world, without a raft, without a stone to tie it to.


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