5 Sep 2008

I will wander
through this wide world, -
wooed by stars,
foreign tongues,
cold skies -
but I will remember where I come from.
Those rocks,
the bending trees,
and the names carved into wet cement.
I will remember the smell of morning air,
and the dusky pink of summertime.
The times I walked with tears,
and how I laughed with the birds.
I have lived and loved so much here.
I will never forget.


  1. because i am totally a public coward with my camera, i dont have the evidence to support this story, but i had to share with you.

    on the way home from the grocery store on tuesday evening, i stepped over a small acrylic-paint tube that had been smashed flat by passer-bys. it was the most gorgeous blue, smattered and spotted all about the concrete in the serious and graceful way blue always seems to be.

    i felt you in that moment.

  2. I love that story! I wish you had captured it on camera (would have a pride place on the bower-blog) but sometimes the best things are kept on the mind's eye.. I like to think that some artist left that tube there on purpose for people to step on it and create some footpath art. What a brilliant idea... now I want to go drop tubes of paint all over the city. We'll call it the "Unassuming artist project" and we'll creep back in the early hours of the morning to document... it is good to add a bit of haphazard colour to our concrete jungle.

    Thank you for sharing this;
    its brightened my morning up completely!

  3. What a beautiful post! You are so alive, so beautiful, and such a poet!

    I'm so proud to be your friend!

  4. That is an exquisitely beautiful poem, and it goes so perfectly with the image, although I also think it goes quite well with the 2nd panel of your concertina book... just a thought.


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