A poem is an equation written on the wind, lasting only for as long as the memories that transmit it from one seeker to the next. The poet is an ego-driven chronicler writing to be remembered while claiming that the message is what matters most, despite the fact that the message hasn’t changed since the advent of the printed word, or longer. I can imagine the last of the species
They sat together in a corner booth of the nicest hotel bar in town, just a few blocks from where he worked. He ran his index finger across the top of her hand and said, “I’m definitely game for a nightcap in your room, but I can’t stay too late, Elaine. I have a presentation tomorrow, and most of my paperwork is at home.” “No problem, Chuck,” she said. “We’ll
So much depends on perception. Perceiving identity as static results in static behavior where little is gained or learned, with minimal emotional reward. “This is who I am,” someone might think, “so this is the way things will always be.” Granted, disorders like schizophrenia and depression control behavior in certain immutable ways, as can things like sex, ethnicity, class status, and age. Still, the “Who I am” affirmation is always
More often than not, political obsession is just an extension of character flaws cloaked in a mantle of patriotic concern. As I mention in another article, if you live to be 82 years old, you have around 30,000 days on Earth. After subtracting the time for obligations like sleeping, eating, working, paying bills, and so on, you only have 12,000 days of free time—from birth. That’s all you get, and the
People talk themselves out of maintaining a healthy lifestyle for endless reasons. Still, making excuses for not exercising and eating well is ruinous. Life is too short and precious for that. In most cases, it’s not really that hard to take care of yourself. Here’s a simple thumbnail sketch of some strategies for a longer, healthier life. First, do at least 150 minutes of moderate-intensity aerobic exercise a week. “Aerobic”
I’m smoking, The burning trail choking Deep lungs groping For the nicotine fix It poisons my lips And keeps callers at a distance. My most faithful lover Your smell stays on my lips Long after our last kiss No matter how hard I try keep telling you goodbye You keep coming back And I keep letting You back into my life It’s like I’m your wife. Most nights Against twilight
