Writing

I am a poet. I take the words and I turn them on their heads until the juice runs out. It is red and sweet, like strawberries. I sit cross-legged on lilypads, watching meaning watercolor itself onto the pond. I rust like clockwork in the rain.

I'm sorry—

Sorry that I keep getting stuck in that well;

Sorry for always relying on your rope;

Sorry for putting all my guts on display;

Sorry for influencing you to decide like me;

I'm a bit of an avid reader, more recently than in the past. Found a lot of really good books lately and thought I'd share a few of them: 

1. Introduction 

In the dialogue Cratylus, Socrates professed, “There is nothing worse than self-deception—when the deceiver is at home and always with you” (Plato, 1953, p. 374).

Dear 1849,

I’m supposed to close on you in about two days. The lawyer keeps calling it “finalizing the transaction,” but that’s not really what this is.

One afternoon, a friend of mine asked, rather cynically, “Why should we care about the humanities?” Aren’t we “wasting” our dear time painting pictures, writing novels, and endlessly debating philosophical issues?