If Blake were alive he would be 27 years old today. Here is a small, worthless poem I wrote in this morning's dark, as the muezzins gave their call to prayer from the minarets of Amman:
The net cannot hold water.
The screen window cannot hold air.
The heaven cannot hold all the prayers,
rising like stars in the night.
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3 comments:
Laura,
I am so cheered to see your prose and your poetry. I've been thinking about you and about Blake. One (at least) of his tags rumbled by on a passing train in south Provo this afternoon and thought of him and you.
Love seeing your news. I miss you so much, my friend. We raised our respective glasses in your honor: Jeanne, Tanya, Julie, Jess, Prince, Feisty, and I. Then we played some pinochle, dominoes and euchre. So pedestrian compared with what you are doing, but there you were, in our ordinary hearts.
Hi Laura,
This is Travis. I just found your blog and plan on reading it and commenting regularly. I'm excited to hear about all the things that you experience out there. I think of you often and you were constantly in my thoughts both on 8/18 and also on Blake's b-day... I'm glad that you are keeping this blog. I was at a show at Kilby Court (a place we used to always go to shows at, and play at) in SLC the other night and there was RIOT right on the wall with a Parallax sticker right next to it. Amazing.
Much love, Travis
p.s.
Thank you for the poetry!
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