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dear diarrhea
Created on 2004-11-30 08:56:36 (#5311436), last updated 2005-08-28
248 comments received, 95 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
166 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 12 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
| Name: | k to the i to to the mberly |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 08-10 |
| Location: | Athens, Georgia, United States |
| Website: | http://www.kmaynard.com/index.html |
[e] pretend you're standing over the ocean. you're a millionaire. pretend you're running over the ocean. you're jumping across mountains. you're jumping across mountains. everybody loves you.
"are you mr. william stafford?"
"yes, but..."
well, it was yesterday.
sunlight used to follow my hand.
and that's when the strange siren-like sound flooded
over the horizon and rushed through the streets of our town.
that's when sunlight came from behind
a rock and began to follow my hand.
"it's for the best," my mother said--"nothing can
ever be wrong for anyone truly good."
so later the sun settled back and the sound
faded and was gone. all along the streets every
house waited, white, blue, gray; trees
were still trying to arch as far as they could.
you can't tell when strange things with meaning
will happen. i'm [still] here writing it down
just the way it was. "you don't have to
prove anything," my mother said. "just be ready
for what god sends." i listened and put my hand
out in the sun again. it was all easy.
well, it was yesterday. and the sun came,
why
it came.
-william stafford
"i thought it was a lovely story, especially the part about the fig tree in winter under the snow and then the fig tree in spring with all the green fruit. i felt sorry when i came to the last page. i wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print the way you crawl through a fence and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig tree."
-silvia plath, the bell jar

"are you mr. william stafford?"
"yes, but..."
well, it was yesterday.
sunlight used to follow my hand.
and that's when the strange siren-like sound flooded
over the horizon and rushed through the streets of our town.
that's when sunlight came from behind
a rock and began to follow my hand.
"it's for the best," my mother said--"nothing can
ever be wrong for anyone truly good."
so later the sun settled back and the sound
faded and was gone. all along the streets every
house waited, white, blue, gray; trees
were still trying to arch as far as they could.
you can't tell when strange things with meaning
will happen. i'm [still] here writing it down
just the way it was. "you don't have to
prove anything," my mother said. "just be ready
for what god sends." i listened and put my hand
out in the sun again. it was all easy.
well, it was yesterday. and the sun came,
why
it came.
-william stafford
"i thought it was a lovely story, especially the part about the fig tree in winter under the snow and then the fig tree in spring with all the green fruit. i felt sorry when i came to the last page. i wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print the way you crawl through a fence and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig tree."
-silvia plath, the bell jar

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