phoenix {rising} |
| new - older - profile - rings - cast - notes - guestbook - host |
Upon Return As Chris's father drove us away from my apartment, I wrote: Something wrenched (No!) as we stretch the band away—it pulls and I am pulled. Here are my words, here, here in rush and flurry and frantic collision. This is where I belong, not my heart but my gut, this is the place anchored to the pit of me. We watch children make up games with soccer balls on their stoop, the doorman in his braided uniform jumping into their fray. Oh—I can't leave, I can't leave, here are my words, here I am with self and words, all merged and together. Don't make me leave. Please, please, don't make me leave. I left. The plane pulled up over the skyline and there was Manhattan in front of the early-afternoon sun, there misty silver and all of a mass, glittering beautiful. All I could think about was Bryant Park movies and summer rain. |
| linsay designs |