Sunday, January 22, 2012

Once In A While

I find a good poem. And I.  Fall.  Apart.
That's the point, I suppose.
Sullivan had this one up today.

Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness.

No comments:

Post a Comment