"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Monday, August 13, 2012


This room is full of whispers,
and they echo down the hall
and out the door
and onto the sidewalk
and down the street
to the D train, underground,
until I emerge, and then
they aren't whispers anymore -
they're a phone call
and a tinge of panic
and a fight to stay calm.
Between steps it hits
like New York traffic
and despite best efforts
to brush it away, bat at it,
take that elusive gnat to task,
it will be found again
in the silence at the end
of a memorable evening.
A heart stops but once,
unless it happens to be twice
(and then you're pushing it)
so keep an ear to the receiver
and don't let it stop yours, too.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Brother Ali, Sleepwalker

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