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“The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them – words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller, but for want of an understanding ear.”
- Stephen King, “The Body”
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MY TEXTS, Archive 460 Texts
Sacrament Without Words (7) - 2013-11-08
Haiku (1) - 2013-11-03
November (2) - 2013-11-02
Eros In Old Age (1) - 2013-10-28
Tanka (2) - 2013-10-27
A Poem Rewritten For My Daughter's Birthday (4) - 2013-10-26
She Has No Name And So I Call Her Desire (2) - 2013-10-09
The Age Of Innocence (2) - 2013-10-07
A Poem Veering Off Into A Strange Metaphor (5) - 2013-10-06
Winter Boots (5) - 2013-10-03
Passing It On (1) - 2013-09-30
Tanka (1) - 2013-09-29
Gulf Shore At Dusk (1) - 2013-09-23
Tanka (3) - 2013-09-22
A View From The Pasture On A September Morning (7) - 2013-09-14
Haiku (6) - 2013-09-11
Fifty Beats Per Second (3) - 2013-09-10
One By Seamus Heaney (3) - 2013-09-07
Panama Beach At Dusk (3) - 2013-09-04
Entr' Acte (4) - 2013-09-03
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