Saturday, December 13, 2008

Bones

it is a standing joke that i cannot conceal my disjointedness. jointedness is a gift. enough people pull off a fair imitation of it - veneer of fluidity, approximation of what will pass off as a 'resolved' plot, a 'resolved' life. my own literary body is a pile of smooth and beautiful bones, all unconnected. here's to the sinew and energy that will pull them upright eventually to glorious, heroic form!

1 comment:

blank for now :) said...

You write beautifully. I just had to stop to comment.
Will you let me read more?