Tuesday, January 22, 2013

haibun || Sheila E. Murphy

Nobody does small things anymore. I watch visionaries turn to television; as a member of the viewing audience, I lose myself. The woman who "does" voices gradually ascends beyond the normal range. I have subscribed to her, and now I take part in receiving relics for a price. I love their personality. Daylight affords a  quiet weather background for larger things transported from a state of fodder to the spooled release of raconteur. Last night,a single sheet of paper summarized the regal figure of my youth, who formed stories and was every person's friend. She was so large; and life, so small. Calm as weeds, trimester number three, the range of notionable buttons in a tray.
To have been birthed, a teacher interrupted mid-sentence, merely prodded to begin again
Sheila E. Murphy

No comments:

Post a Comment