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Two Lines on Sleepless Nights
I hate waking in the middle of the night.
It means going to bed alone all over again.
Cross-posted in 2_lines. -
Steel Standing
Planted.
Ankle-deep in concrete,
But nothing’s harder than my heart.
There’s something proud about rust -
Like telling the rain
“Looks don’t matter;
Appearances can be deceiving.”
I am the coldest red.
Colder than the long winter’s night
Cold for being lone
And prone…
You couldn’t hope to build with me,
So you build on me.
I carry so much.
If Isaiah’d known ( Read more... ) -
Days Go Passing into Years
I don't know that it profits me much to look back on this year that has passed, even if New Year's Eve is the perfect occasion to do so. Doubtless I'd find too much fault in my last tour 'round the Sun, to go with missed opportunities and so much squandered potential. For that is my way, after all - never yielding in moments of self-doubt and self- ( Read more... ) -
One Time is Never Enough
This isn't like the last one. Last time, it was one of my students only insofar as they were all my students. I never even met Altagracia Valenzuala, and the only time I saw her was when she was lying in state the night of the wake. And, yeah, the sight of her so eerily still was troubling and saddening, but mainly owing to all those theoretical ( Read more... ) -
Love, True Love
Because it is important to own up to our biases, I will claim my own at the top. Boston College blew a classic "trap game" down in Winston-Salem this evening and I'm a little jaded. Oh, how the outcome of a child's game does wreak havoc on my psyche.
My dear friend Vic is now hitched, too. It was a lovely ceremony, if a little schmaltzy, and doubled ( Read more... ) -
When the Chips are Down
You know things aren't going your way when you're 2-10 against the spread in this week's NFL action. My record this year is just plain unsightly, and I've reached the point where I know I'd be better off just enjoying the games instead of evaluating them based on their relative gambling merits. Of course, if I bowwed out now it would only be an ( Read more... ) -
Illin'
The art of writing, I am now convinced, will be dead inside of two generations. Perhaps some good ink will still be spilt in the next century, but most pages will be marred beyond recognition by informality, carelessness, and eroding standards. I am not usually given to such bleak prophecies, but having spent the last several hours grading papers, ( Read more... ) -
All In
The early returns on my new gig as a religion teacher at Bishop McNamara High School are overwhelmingly positive. My students this time around are far and away more academically prepared and curious - perhaps owing to the fact that they were not reared in a relative war zone. True, I am busier now than I ever have been at previous stops, having ( Read more... ) -
Moonlight Mile
For the record, I'm stripping this evening of any and all romantic overtones; which means the trail wasn't secluded, the moonlight wasn't breathtaking, and she wasn't so damn lovely.