Terminal Musings

Finding my way


I find it hard
to speak to you
because I’m feared of you –
because my words when called they do not flow,
just jumble spurt
First one line, and
then another
And you are left with myriad paths:
lines unlinked
thoughts disjoint
And now are found as lost as I

July 22nd, 2015

A Taking In of the Breath

Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.

— Gustave Flaubert

July 19th, 2015

Cheap Shot

I don’t remember what I said – but I remember what he said.

What do you think of his approach? I thought it was pretty bad.

Her glance slashes over; we’re a sentence in.
I…am unafraid.

I thought it was fine…”

I shrug. That little man – what does he think? Does he imagine that belittling others endears himself? That she’d appreciate the off-hand put-down? That I’d be flustered or flummoxed? I wonder, because I – I am aware only of his weakness. His impotence. His inability to start a conversation with nothing but a cheap shot.

July 15th, 2015