Wednesday, February 15, 2012


I put on my dirty clothes early, since I was expecting a package and thought I had to sign for it, and after a while,  I wanted to wash up and put clean clothes on, and finally got sick of waiting and decided to wash up, and I looked out the window—not FED-X truck.  I stripped and started washing up, peeked out the widow and there came the Fed-X man with a big box on his shoulder and I dashed in the bedroom and through on a dressed dashed downstairs, but he had left—I didn't have to sign for the box after all. 


I didn't trust it for a moment
but I drank it anyway,
the wine of my own poetry.
It gave me the daring to take hold
of the darkness and tear it down
and cut it into little pieces.
-- Lala, 14th century Persian poet

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