In the solemnity of her attention he heard himself saying things he had said to no one else, confessing hopes so implausible he had barely confessed them to himself. He was often surprised by his own honesty. But he stopped short of telling Mary Ann what was most on his mind, and what he believed she already knew, because of the chance that she didn’t know or wasn’t ready to admit she did. Once he said it, everything would change, for all of them, and he wasn’t prepared to risk this.

Tobias Wolff – “Two Boys and a Girl”

It’s funny that I’d say that, but it’s ture. Of course, I refer to no Personal God, but instead to the word. What other word works? White noise is as good a god as any, + better than many. Bow before the might of the random. White noise is the sound of the universe, It is the sound of life, IT IS THE SOUND OF HUMAN CIVILIZATION!

—————–

Does this pen write poetry? I doubt it. But ask if I think poetry And I’ll tell you that an thought is poetic before the tyranny of words.

—————–

A Show of The impermanence of thoughts

Written in the sand

Disappears

Quickly

—————–

the Sun warms with with a fraction of its heat.

Are you God?

—————–

Will this one day be the musings of a young poet? A thinker? Or will I throw it in the recycling + let my words infuse the work of others?

—————–

What will I come to know? The possibilities are endless.

—————–

Who Cares?

—————–

My personal philosophy is this:

Fuck That Shit!

—————–

What is poetry but words thinking?

—————–

Does a seagull’s shadow cross me on purpose? What of its direction? What does it mean? Will I get poop on my head?

—————–

When so much is moving (sand) why does so little happen?

—————–

Is it All just wasted Effort?

Tags: writing, poetry, philosophy, beach, musing,