the old weaver
the old weaver
words flowed like the Shenandoah
surely, with confidence
and I wrote them from my tent
in the Skyline Drive in Virginia
the campground was called Matthew's Arm
and I would name my first son Matthew
"saw a black bear" it said in my journal
"watched the sun set and rise", I documented
those moments never realizing an old man
might read them one day when he was bored,
cleaning out closets to unburden the task
for his children later throwing away all his shit
but I kept keeping this little book
I think because, words conceived are life conceived
spontaneous as they come in real time
before the fucking internet, before the cellular phone
before GPS, when I fell in love with maps
and brand new ways of thinking
and writing down what I was seeing
with eyes and mind
surely, with confidence
and I wrote them from my tent
in the Skyline Drive in Virginia
the campground was called Matthew's Arm
and I would name my first son Matthew
"saw a black bear" it said in my journal
"watched the sun set and rise", I documented
those moments never realizing an old man
might read them one day when he was bored,
cleaning out closets to unburden the task
for his children later throwing away all his shit
but I kept keeping this little book
I think because, words conceived are life conceived
spontaneous as they come in real time
before the fucking internet, before the cellular phone
before GPS, when I fell in love with maps
and brand new ways of thinking
and writing down what I was seeing
with eyes and mind
If you do not change your direction
you may end up where you are heading
you may end up where you are heading
Re: the old weaver
I've been journaling the minutiae of my life since high school - really should toss all the diaries and notebooks, and delete the Word docs - but something always stays my hand - these snapshots from my past won't mean to her what they do to me - but they're my impromptu autobiography - and so I let them live for another day........
.
"Falsehood flies, the Truth comes limping after it." - Jonathan Swift, ca. 1710
"Falsehood flies, the Truth comes limping after it." - Jonathan Swift, ca. 1710
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Re: the old weaver
Awww so sweet are the memories
Of a time when all seems so real and natural
No virtual reality in paper and ink
The smell of the library and coffee
The smell of rain comes through the typewriter
Of long ago
Clack
Click whirring sound
Begin a new
I hear this song building in my throat
My lungs are heavy
I crave tobacco
The ashtray
A relic from younger times
When breath was an option
Convinced that we don’t die
Testing 1 2 3 4.. still here
Of a time when all seems so real and natural
No virtual reality in paper and ink
The smell of the library and coffee
The smell of rain comes through the typewriter
Of long ago
Clack
Click whirring sound
Begin a new
I hear this song building in my throat
My lungs are heavy
I crave tobacco
The ashtray
A relic from younger times
When breath was an option
Convinced that we don’t die
Testing 1 2 3 4.. still here
reason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---
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- Posts: 4650
- Joined: September 15th, 2005, 3:23 am
- Contact:
Re: the old weaver
Have boxes of journals in a box where I keep my bills
Wish they could pay the dues-
Wish they could pay the dues-
reason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---
Re: the old weaver
Coming across the same thing lately. Toss, or keep? Probably toss. It inevitably gets down to that anyway..
- stilltrucking
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- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
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Re: the old weaver
I think because, words conceived are life conceived
spontaneous as they come in real time
My brain is a Magic Eight Ball™
memories float up out of the depths
I have read that we never forget anything. Any thought, sight, taste, smell act, emotion, it is all in there, in that dark sea within us. Not sure what this has to do with your poem, some kind of kneejerk reply from this barely conscious writer.
the poem is brilliant, thank you.
I thought this bit was curious, thinking about the internet and grammar checkers.
spontaneous as they come in real time
My brain is a Magic Eight Ball™
memories float up out of the depths
I have read that we never forget anything. Any thought, sight, taste, smell act, emotion, it is all in there, in that dark sea within us. Not sure what this has to do with your poem, some kind of kneejerk reply from this barely conscious writer.
the poem is brilliant, thank you.
I thought this bit was curious, thinking about the internet and grammar checkers.
Re: the old weaver
thanx for the the great comments colleagues...always a pleasure...
If you do not change your direction
you may end up where you are heading
you may end up where you are heading
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Re: the old weaver
Enjoyed this opening of your journal and what it means now
The Irish Sea Is Always In Turmoil, Even When Calm.
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