New Home

The tomes of mine have finally found a new home with Wordpress. Yes, one is finally shifting there after ages of inactivity. So my dear readers, please redirect your bookmarks to Whispers of Another Moon

Nothing has changed, just the provider.

Gracias

Pretty Week

In the midst of writing another short story, while reading 2 novels (Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse and James Joyce A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man) while holding one more novel to be read (Joseph Heller's Catch-22) is going to signify the start of another week.

It's not going to be a pretty week.

Intransitive

As the music recedes so do my feelings
Rush like a waterfall down to its snowy depths
Plunging deep deep inside the unconscious
The last shred of my humanity plundered, fluttering in the lonely wind
Like the last man standing on a battlefield won, a Pyrrhic victory

Circling the skies above a hawk spies
In search of its food to delay starvation perhaps
Or to feed its young in that eyrie way up high
As it is always, to deny something, to allow something
By the force of our seeking

Searching I am too for that ultimate bliss
Like the hawk in the sky, eyes scan the world below me
Looking and looking for that sparkle who would bring me
Down back to terra firma where I would plant my two feet

I am searching yes, searching for you
The you in the shadows who I cannot see
The you that is the Other of me
The incomplete you for the incomplete me
That double of me both joy and of terror in my dreams