The cycle begins again, it seems as if this is all I've known- the scare of strange streets gradually losing their unfamiliar sheen and becoming something more acquainted, closed doorways and corner shops giving their silent nods in greeting as I pass. This season will soon be coming to a close, though, and my time here will end. On everbody's lips is the same question, and I have it now on my own- where will I go? Washington state, I ponder, or should I try to stay in this city that is still slightly new? I have yet to truly learn even a niche, which I would dearly love to do (it's a lovely place, I think)- but who knows! Not I, for sure, and maybe that should be disconcerting but I am currently inclined to let the current carry me where it will, and without too many intentions I will say, "To hell with the consequences, I will have to learn to love another small space of this enormous world."
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
