Consider the road, any road. How things would look without it, why it is where it is, what it brings us to when we don't have anyplace to be. Where these stories take place the road cuts through fields of potatoes, corn and tobacco, past ponds and broken down barns, clotheslines and kitchens with lights left burning through the night. Where people don't kill each other very often or shoot at each other much, and bombs are not falling from the sky or exploding outside the market. It's paradise really, for the lucky ones. Like most places it's where people are trying like mad to love or keep...
Consider the road, any road. How things would look without it, why it is where it is, what it brings us to when we don't have anyplace to be. Where th...
Take this book and toss it out a second story window. Eventually it will reach the ground. It's a law. Throw it at the ground, it will get there sooner then if you open it and cast it out into the wind where it may drift or even float for a time before it reaches the ground. Tear it page by page and give each one to the wind to do what it will do with it. One may be found by someone who will read the words on the page, feel glad they happened upon it and put the poem in their pocket, as another may consider it littering.
Take this book and toss it out a second story window. Eventually it will reach the ground. It's a law. Throw it at the ground, it will get there soone...