End
A forest at sunset. Time is nearly reset. Reality blurs. The inevitable occurs. The last thing I know Is the sun’s orange halo Pushing through the trees, And the only one who sees Is me. Continue reading End
Tag: contemplative
Alone
I look to the horizon, And see nothing. Contrary to popular belief, Nothing is something. I look to the horizon, And see something. Continue reading Alone
Privilege
What spider is this, Caught between two panes of glass? Why is it here, Where so many people pass? Asymmetrical, Legs colored like oranges. Disturbing, unnerving, still. What are those lumps on its appendages? What camera is this, Reflected in … Continue reading Privilege
Cold
A solitary yellow hotel matchbook lies on a snow-dusted sidewalk, its flimsy wooden matches exposed to the overcast sky. Why is it here? Did an overworked graduate student, snatching a smoke as they hurried to class, drop it, too distracted … Continue reading Cold
Calm
Today, as I was working in my home office, I shut off my music, my podcasts to keep me company, my background YouTube videos, and I opened my window. I heard dogs barking in distant backyards; trucks unnecessarily accelerating and … Continue reading Calm
I Don’t Survive the Apocalypse
If the world stopped right now – zombies, natural disaster, disease – and, as is likely to happen, you become one of hundreds of millions to quickly vanish in the ensuing panic, what would the few lucky survivors find in your home as they scavenge for supplies? What could they eat? What clothing is left behind? Are there any first aid supplies? Would your home be a safe place for them to stay? Is it defensible? If this hypothetical survivor is contemplative – which could be dangerous in a world where paying attention is likely the difference between life and … Continue reading I Don’t Survive the Apocalypse
Staring Out A Window 