Just a bit of the morning’s free writing
Dear Ms. Goldberg,
Here is your moment: (chapter 2)
I am thinking Clearlike and childhood and hope for the future and I wish to write more coherently, eloquently, I pray to the gods and goddesses of writing.
I don’t ask for flowers in my hair or bells on toes. Just to write and write well. Let me have a bouquet of words in which to amaze. The ability to inspire awe, to bring a smile, exact a laugh.
This, Ms. Goldberg, oh anointed one!
This is all I ask. A quiet moment with no cars. Oh what peace. How beautiful this moment, let it hold…then the moment collapses with the sound and feel of a thumper, loud stereo with rap drowns out the silence.
toes in water
I sit on rocks,
holding the sun.
western orange sky
I don’t have rocks
in my head, or flowers
ducks. They talk to me
and I tell them,
“I have no food today.”
Floating along Sager Creek
like little fishing bobbers.
they spot dunk.
niches of accumulating junk. Near one of the falls, in the corner of the little rock dam. Here is such a niche. Plastic bottles, candy wrappers, a deli-cup from Wal-Mart, a styrofoam cup from McDonald’s.