Tired Songs

Stretch and work my brain
Hours into the night
Hours into exhaustion
For words on digital pages
That are edited away like vapors.
I did something there, I really did.
But who will ever know?
Who will ever care?

Posted by ruth at February 23, 2003 05:22 PM

Comments

This entry has haunted me for a week now. I love it. It's something that's troubled me for years, now, the unreal, changing nature of modern communication. Whether just a grocery list or a masterpiece of literature, it can come and go in a fraction of a blink.
If the electrons that made up a poem go elsewhere, was the poem ever there in the first place?
Posted by: Ryan on March 9, 2003 09:53 PM

ah ...
I shall meditate upon that pixel.
:-)
Posted by: ruth on March 12, 2003 01:44 PM

Reality to AIM For

I checked out my buddy list on AIM tonight.

Some buddies have faded. And not from me, but simply from the care of people in general. I see and sense this.

Some buddies I knew were just kids a couple years ago, but something happened to them. They got hurt by a love or fell out of favor from work supervisors. They've become reclusive. The light has left their eyes.

Probably the same mantra: Build shells or die of pain from the elements.

I want to chip away at you, but sometimes I feel as if I will die of fatigue trying to get to your impossible center.

Posted by ruth at February 12, 2003 11:05 PM

Valentine's Day

I know it's early, but I can't help it.

Sweetie, thanks for a year that even I with my crazy imagination could never have dreamed of.

You are the real thing. I love you. With all my heart, I love you!

Happy Valentine's Day.

Posted by ruth at February 11, 2003 11:39 PM