Atop the city heights
Above the trailing lights
In between the window pane
A sound of you still remains
It all just gets stolen away
The pavement peels into the dusk
Like torn paper whisked by a whirlwind
Crumbling in the pale horizon
Sunbeams pierce the high-rise
Basking apertures of resting places
In a serene and vigorous glow
While thoughts wither as twilight grows
A harrowing feeling takes hold then
That should Heaven and Earth break
No matter how the winds decide it should lay
I’ll continue thinking of you every day
Thus, something endures after all. I like the way you just go with contradictory moods. I do that, too, heedless of conflicts in logic. Some logical men say you have to be consistent all the time, but I’m not one of them
Yeah, I was actually aiming for something else, but then had to finish it off because I hate struggling to find the words I’m looking for to keep the mood.
I figure as time goes on, I’ll be able to articulate the mood more gracefully without wanting to ‘get it out’.
Usually I struggle for a moment thinking, “Damnit! What’s the word I’m looking for? Is it this? No… Bah…”
So I have to use the thesaurus but even that isn’t always effective. Usually I’ll think of the words later. Not ‘straining’ to remember them.
Dickinson and Flaubert both were always looking for “le mot juste,” or “the right word.” The former carried scraps around with her for days, scratching words out and replacing, emending and amending, revising until she called it good. That it’s a struggle shows you care.
