I am intrigued by how words mean when we imply that they do,
how they tend to break up across the rock of accountability
and in the soup kitchen of the unconscious.
Do you know what I mean?
Friday, September 11, 2009
Threshold
Nancy writes herself
into existence
as her body
goes away.
Story beckons
through the threshold
of death borne again.
Thanks, HQ. Stories are beckoning from the other side of the threshold these days. Perhaps they'll manage to make it through some time not too far down the road.
I loved the notion of story beckoning through the threshold... and I look forward to hearing more about Nancy and stories like hers.
ReplyDeleteThanks, HQ. Stories are beckoning from the other side of the threshold these days. Perhaps they'll manage to make it through some time not too far down the road.
ReplyDelete