Tuesday, June 23, 2009
a wild ragged figure motioning him to turn around and come off into the dark
Hazel's grandfather had been a circuit preacher, a waspish old man who had ridden over three counties with Jesus hidden in his head like a stinger. He knew by the time he was twelve years old that he was going to be a preacher. Later he saw Jesus move from tree to tree in the back of his mind, a wild ragged figure motioning him to turn around and come off into the dark where he was not sure of his footing, where he might be walking on the water and not know it and then suddenly know it and drown.
"Wise Blood," Flannery O'Connor
[Wabash Avenue below Chicago Avenue]
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- no light will project them
- the waitress turns kitchenward, her ankle blooms w...
- the eerie brightness of nighttime
- what you gotta do is play your own simple blues
- a wild ragged figure motioning him to turn around ...
- voices instead of colors
- quietly obscene
- in silence the heart
- now is, all there is
- but a dream
- the universe will soon
- sincere and lilting tone
- desperate enough just to do anything
- as close to their reflections
- spring breeze
- conflagrations, ruins, scenes of spectacular carna...
- the moment of a yawn
- I want to walk like I'm the only woman on earth an...
- rounded with a sleep
- night breeze
- ▼ June (23)