Wanderer, Wanderlust, Open but Empty Fields  

Optimistic1963 55M
5 posts
8/31/2005 12:49 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

Wanderer, Wanderlust, Open but Empty Fields


Strange to feel alone in an internet world of 100,000. I ache for contact, passion, heights that don't need to return to a lifeless low. Have had little trouble throughout my life finding partners, dates, friends. In a new job in a small town, newly single, a parent, just landed a dream job, working on a book that may indeed get finished and even published. And yet...Why is the call I make here so echoeless? Are there really only selfish, materialistic and overly hedonistic souls scratching for pieces of each other here? Perhaps.

The poem of the day:

For a Woman in the Middle of Winter

Max Garland

"A long time I lived there,
in the town of the way your hair
fell. A long time

I lay like a novice
under my own heartbeat,
practicing. Since it was winter,

the snow was spilling at the window's feet.
A long time I tried not to think;
maybe never to think. Strange,

how an instant will round itself
into a kind of toy, a glass globe
in the cup of your hand,

and when you shake it, the snow rises,
twists, and falls. Strange,

how the slope of your shoulders
and back, was the very shape
taken by the snow,

and the more of it that fell,
the more human it became,
the more it drifted and burned,
and the more I loved you."

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