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http://vacapinta.stumbleupon.com/review/165720/

Fri, 07 May 2004 23:30:23 -0700

So in the (e)mail I get this poem:

RUNNING IN CHURCH
from Eve (1997)
by Annie Finch (b. 1956)

Then, you were a hot-thinking, thin-lidded tinderbox,
Losing your balance meant nothing at all. You would
pour through the aisles in the highest cathedrals,
careening deftly as patriarchs brooded.

You made the long corridors ring, tintinnabular
echoes exploring the pounded cold floor,
forcing the walls to the truth of your progress:
there was a person in this church's core.

Past thick stained-glass colors wafted and swirling
in pooled interludes that swung down from the rafters,
cinnabar wounds threw light on your face, where the
pliant young bones were dissolving in laughter.

http://vacapinta.stumbleupon.com/review/165718/

Fri, 07 May 2004 17:04:56 -0700

Things and people in my life have been stumbling in my direction. I am catching them as best I can. I hope to resume my previous pace soon.

http://vacapinta.stumbleupon.com/review/165677/

Fri, 16 Apr 2004 20:30:59 -0700

My darkness reaches out and fumbles at a typwriter with its tongs. Your darkness reaches out with your tongs and grasps a book. There are twenty modes of change, filter and translation between us. What an extravagant coincidence it would be if the exact quality, the translucent sweetness of her cheek, the very living curve of bone between the eyebrow and the hair should survive the passage! ...

Perhaps you found this book on a stall fifty years hence which is another now. The star's light reaches us millions of years after the star is gone, or so they say, and perhaps it is true. What sort of universe is that for our central darkness to keep its balance in?

-Golding