3 June 2013
Again, I’m not good with the words tonight, but I will blame it on Game of Thrones. Are you all caught up with the current episode? Have you read the books before? Did you see this coming?
I’m also readjusting to writing at night. It seems I’m not great at doing things as soon as I’ve woken up or right before I go to bed. Maybe that should be the time for meditation. Andrew would love a Buddha statue from you by the way — if you can find one, and whenever you send another package. Nothing big — he just saw the picture you posted up of yours a while ago, and mentioned that he really loved it. Only if it’s no trouble.
I lay awake a few nights ago reading “Poems After Midnight”, a small collection of, well, poems after midnight. This poem is from there, but I’ve read it before and loved it. That final image. That plea.
The Midnight Club
The gifted have told us for years that they want to be loved
For what they are, that they, in whatever fullness is theirs,
Are perishable in twilight, just like us. So they work all night
In rooms that are cold and webbed with the moon’s light;
Sometimes, during the day, they lean on their cars,
And stare into the blistering valley, glassy and golden,
But mainly they sit, hunched in the dark, feet on the floor,
Hands on the table, shirts with a bloodstain over the heart.