Believe me when I tell you . . .

I am lost, and you are, too. If you don't know that you are lost, then I am a little less lost than you, for at least I know that I do not know where I am, whereas you persist in striding confidently from you-know-not-where into you-know-not-what.

It is only when we recognize our essential lostness that we come to see that much finding is shamming, most security is trickery, for there is no shame in not knowing, only shame in falsity.



Sunday, September 18, 2011

Where I live

Dogs in the street
pull at pizza boxes.
Old car windows empty
except at the edges.
Walking at night
I see so little;
In the day I know
where I live.
THIS is a day upon which so much depends.
Bets, having been placed, will ride.
Alea iacta est.