away away

I'm all dry of words and my insides feel pickled and I have all my assignments dinosauring their way towards me. If I could see myself in a series of visuals with the appropriate bleak light, I might be moved.

But here's a poem that makes weariness thin, every time. Dear, dear Raymond Carver.

Late Fragment

And did you get what

you wanted from life, even so?

I did.

And what did you want?

To call myself beloved, to feel myself

beloved on the earth


  1. Beloved . . .

    Prax, one thing at a time. This too shall pass.

    Joy always,

  2. Sure it'll pass :)
    We're bunny rabbits and we're going to die and stuff.


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