020704 — To the Diva: If being gone was the problem, how is coming home not the solution?
190719 — To the Coach: If doing too little work was the problem, how come doing more wasn’t the solution?
210109 — To the Axis: If telling the truth caused the problem, how come lies don’t help?
211023 — The Difference: I try to answer darkness with light; you try to answer with darker darkness.
from Jackson Browne, 1976 — At the moment the music began, and you heard the guitar player starting to sing. You were filled with the beauty that ran through what you were imagining. Dreaming of scenes from those songs of love. I was the endless sky, and you were my Mexican dove. Now the music that played in your ears grows a little bit fainter each day. And you find yourself looking through tears at the love you feel slipping away. But it’s not the kind of love you might hope to find, if tears could release the heart from the shadows preferred by the mind.
Like a wind that comes up in the night caressing your face while you sleep, love will fill your eyes with the sights of a world you can’t hope to keep. Dreaming on after that moment’s gone, the light in your lover’s eyes disappears in the light of the dawn. But the morning brings strength to your restless wings and some other lover sings to the sun’s bright corona. I know all about these things, linda paloma.
He reliably nails me every time.
I don’t need to write any of my own poetry.
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