From Anchorage to Zebulon: In Search of Missed Connections
Old Postcard Challenge by Renee
For your imagination
a little card with stamps
and a few words of love.
a picture from far off places…
and omen of destinations
our fortunes in a photograph
a little card
a picture
a few words
a photograph
your imagination
love and stamps and far off places…
Make A Noise by Peter Tandlund
The art of dreaming is important as we meander through lives, being crushed by the tube in the daily commute, as we sleepwalk past zombie like creatures who thrive within their uniform grey and black clothing, not daring to look anyone in the eye.
There is more to life than this. We know there is.
And so we dream. And so we dream. Alive within the colours of our mind we dare to dream and yes, we dare to smile on occasion to breathe life within the utter barbarity of daily city life as we weave through those shuffling figures who were once human. We who are alive want more than this.
I know you are out there as you know I am out there. Not lost. Never lost. Always searching, always looking, always hoping. This is the art of dreaming. It keeps us alive against the cold … and there is such cold. Yet within our hearts there does beat an incredible warmth, that spark to light the deepest dark and I know this to be so for I have felt it from you.
The art of dreaming … of sparkling sunlight and laughter, of warm sex and deep wine and the feeling of sheer freedom within the arms of another. Or just freedom! Within our uniqueness we dream unique dreams. The art of dreaming …
Last week I wore my long red scarf to carry some colour into the grey and the black. If you see it next week, why not take a chance and speak to me? It may not be me … and you may strike up a conversation with a complete stranger that may just change your life, or at very least create that smile to further hold the cold at bay.
Make the world a better place.
x
The art of dreaming is important
And so we dream.
And so we dream.
This is the art of dreaming.
The art of dreaming …
The art of dreaming …
My Favorite Buildings by Thomas Hawk
my sister recited a poem as if
it was a list of buildings
that no longer exist
a list of buildings, my sister
no longer exist
a poem recited as if
that was it
The Charming Smile by Alberto Cerriteño.
Beet cheeks
Flushed with rouge
Dented dimples
upturned corners
Glimmer in the eye
Bare teeth, cheesin
For no good reason
Pennies for thoughts
Of you and me.
me
Flushed with rouge
for no good reason
Beet cheeks and
Dented dimples
you
Glimmer in the eye
Bare teeth, cheesin
of upturned corners
Pennies for thoughts
Still Walking by Paul Galbraith
We worry.
We doubt.
But we say them aloud.
We walk through these trepidations together.
The distance we share often centers sounds of the future directly in front of us.
I think we will share our fair portion of terror.
My mother asked me when we were going to see one another.
I smiled and said May.
And I also said you’d come in July.
I said it with a grin.
My mother asked if it was for good.
And my heart lifted at the thought.
My aunt asked if you were my one and only.
My heart said yes and became giddy.
So I said yes.
Yes.
We we but we
The I my I and I
My and my my
So yes.