Morning

Today, the sun came out. I woke up to it, streaming through my tiny window, and it gave me the courage to throw clothes on and hurry to the breakfast tent. Everything that had been soaked with moisture began to slowly dry, steaming in the heat. The light, which all week took on a ghostly glow, warmed itself, full of gold.

From Me to You

I need a way
to tell you that I
will never let 
you out of my sight.

That the distance,
through ocean and air
does little to weaken the 
bridge that still stands,
from me to you. 

The Physics of Overflow

 

I would love to be quiet. You really don’t know this, because you hear me talk so much, the words pouring out of my mouth uncontrollably like a bucket, almost full, which, when tipped a little too far, succumbs to the physics of overflow.

In the morning when I wake up or sometimes before sleep at night, I think to myself that it would be good to make less noise. How strange, you might think, that in the racket of this city, my own voice is what deafens me.