I am a creature of the night.
I am not happy unless there is a
Full moon in the sky and
A pen in my hand.
The world is very bleak in my eyes-
It's a writer's nightmare filled with
Blocks and unsharpened pencils.
The bricks build up to build a wall
Over time they crack but only too
Soon do they crumble and reveal
A decaying body-an arm seen here,
A knee there, but nonetheless,
A decaying body.
Burned wood shows signs of warmth
And comfort of another time and place.
Nicks show even further the ware
That has taken place in it
As a result of the ware in a life.
And yet color is one of
The most marvelous things.
The slightest touch of odd lighting
And the mix of tough and smooth
Textures makes for the perfect picture.
Anywhere you go, make notice
Of the glass.
Think, How dirty, How cracked,
Or How beautiful.
Make notice.
And, no matter what, on any day,
When you're walking to your car,
Look at the horizon line.
The color contrast alone is
Enough to at least give
Some perspective.
I did that today-looked at the horizon
I don't think I'll forget it today.
It's all I ask-trust me, that 30 seconds
It takes when you're by yourself
Will keep you thinking for the rest-
Of the day.
I did another thing out of the ordinary
Today. While I could have
Rolled the craps dice and tried my luck with
Friends, I didn't. In fact,
I didn't keep my money, but instead
Bought myself a drink here in a pub-
Nothing alcoholic-
And I sit-on a stool
On a burnt wooden ledge
Where I rest my pad of paper
Staring
At an old brick wall.