everywhichwaybutlove
with no spaces to separate
the feeling, so you continue
and you sway, and you go and
go
and
go
and
go
never knowing the light of this
perfect day
when the sun has come out to greet Continue reading
Author Archives: PatrickB
Water – [poem]
Pure and simple does it flow
from high spring to salton seas
as come in the form of rain or fog
does the water flow long and free
dew upon blades – needles pine
to the jungles with coffees and tea
to the great plains of Arkansas
does the water flow long and free
stopped at glacier cold, frozen stiff
burrows of caves with no light for one to see
cascade from Sierra mountain cliffs Continue reading
A Taste for Space – [poem]
I once sat with this boy, on a clear Summer night
With nothing but stars and glimmering lights,
Nothing but silence sat between us
Yet I felt that he was fidgeting a great big fuss
He looked up wondering where space could be
Yet, only blackness was waiting from what he could see
“I don’t see it, I don’t see what you mean,”
Flustered from finding that that ‘space’ hadn’t been seen Continue reading
Dread: An Essay on Anxiety
It’s a weight – anxiety. Like a gravitational surge. It feels like what the inside of a black hole would be. Stretching your soul eternally until it’s a noodle that keeps getting stretched without abandon. You have no say in its vigor, and you’re no stranger to its lasting effects. Like a guest at a party in which you’ve engaged in a conversation – you can neither ask them to leave, for fear of being rude, and you cannot foresee them leaving because you keep feeding it with your attention. And so, it stays.
It is, for all intents and purposes, something we all feel from time to time. A surge of emotion that is so raw that any amount of sushi we have eaten in our lives cannot prepare us for the uncooked rawness that it has upon our soul. Continue reading
A Tasty Fruit with a Royal Story
It’s Fall and there is soon to be an abundance of Fall & Winter veggies and fruits lining the grocery store aisles. There is a particular fruit though that has always held a special place in the hearts (and on the tables) of Armenians. The persimmon.