blOgbuefi

writing to know, knowing thru being, being for writing... this is me, writing about the one thing i know, which is myself... and even that is sometimes a mystery...

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

happy anniversary

you've come a long way, baby.

this marks the belated one-year anniversary of the beginning of this humble little blog of mine, something i am proud to have maintained and entertained long enough to see this day.

and it's been quite the journey: from simple cursory blog posts to prose, choreopoetics, theories and indie journalism, from a readership of none to an audience of a few, but dedicated and thoughtfully caring friends, from feeling alone, voiceless and aimless to speaking out and speaking my mind and speaking for others and speaking... this blog has become more than an outlet, it's become the electricity.

i hope that in another year, it will become something even more.

but for now, i am happy to settle for a few brief words from my dusty poetry notebook.
this is the first in a series of notebooks i have collected from the past two summers, and this piece happens to be from last summer. i never published it before, given its private nature, but i have since lost the feelings that accompanied its penning, and therefor feel comfortable opening it up and exposing it to the ethers.

pour les larmes des etoiles,
stephanie


a flushing
----5/8/2005
a great unraveling of mind----
the tenuous build of body and melding of mind/spirit/soul to finally culminate in the conception of a magnificence beyond you and me and the world between us, the sunlight grasping the cool summer air as we lie awake on the roof of the world looking down on fiery furnaces and dirt pathways and a glistening mirror lake, reflecting our desires and fears and thoughts articulated to the open air of summer, animal spirits bearing witness to the communion of two souls thru words articulated to the dirt mounds of time, the childhood wishing fulfilled in the grasp of a hand, the feeling of congruent palms and the holding of limbs, like mountain goats we climbed to the top of our world to look down and into the future and into time and you said 'what if we are starting something?' and pointed to the stars and i gazed up to see, not the connecting of dots to form lines, but the creation of worlds to find a place for us in it, and the putting into figures and shapes a feeling wordless in breathing.

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