this is not about getting it right, figuring things out, or hitting a bull's-eye. this is not about an obsession with word choice or an exacting eye on grammatical correctness. this is not about pulling out all the stops with tricky literary devices. this is about looking at life one paragraph at time.
all poems and photographs
© by Maya Stein
all poems and photographs
© by Maya Stein
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Please include a link (www.papayamaya.blogspot.com) when reproducing any of the material in this blog. Thank you!
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© by Maya Stein
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Please include a link (www.papayamaya.blogspot.com) when reproducing any of the material in this blog. Thank you!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Sunday, July 29, 2012
a gaze so steady
I know only this: The hot sidewalk on the Lower East Side on a Friday
afternoon did not bear down. Nor did the long, congested walk to the
subway or stifle of those tunnels. Nor did the weight of the backpack or
the foolishness of the turquoise sandals or the mistake of the missed
stop which added another trip in the reverse direction. Nor did the
converging avenues of chaos of the city or the whamming pace of its
natives or the menu at the deli that left me dizzy. None of it could touch the halo of good fortune twinkling under the day's grey sky. I know only this: To be loved in the way you love. Her face peering back at mine, a gaze so steady I thought I had found the secret to end all war.
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1 comment:
Brilliant post for a brilliant blog. Thank you for your inspiration.
Mark Blasini
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