I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Story Bone

"There was something wrong with the graveyard. The stones huddled too close together, seeking warmth in the cool moonlight as if the coffins beneath them were nestled side wall to side wall. A wild garden of overgrown, riotous graves, a claustrophobic afterlife."

From a dream I had last night.

Now back to editing and (hopefully) writing.

2 comments:

Dan Berlyoung said...

This reminds me of a small civil war era cemetery I discovered just off Talmadge avenue. Some society put up a new sign there a few years back and Jen and I noticed it one day. It sits on a hill behind some nondescript light industrial buildings. There is maybe a 20' wide corridor that you walk up from the road. Then there is the cemetery surrounded by chain link fence. There are trees all around and if it were not for the sign, we never would have known it was there. If you ever are in town and have the time, I would love to show you where it is. I think you would really appreciate it.

Steve Buchheit said...

Oo. Old cemetery, we'll have to check that out. I love old cemeteries.