paper days and empty cups

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paper days and empty cups

27 September 2009 372 views 8 Comments

You discard the page of another month. It dribbles into the wide mouth of a dustbin. Time has been fickle. Little accomplished. You throw your empty cup in there too. Paper days and empty cups are for burning. Sometimes looking to the sky is no comfort. It feels more like a hole torn into heaven’s womb. Moments of darkness pass like lazy clouds. Small white tablets repair you gradually. You would take your hat off to such a miracle but you don’t wear a hat. You decide to smoke a cigarette instead. All things must eventually reach a conclusion- this is what you have been trained to believe: stuff must end or die.

There was life before you were taken. It all made sense before you were reduced to this by a love like that. Years of half moons and old moons and moons that softly disgusted you will not vacate your memory. You waste your mind seeking answers to questions you’re afraid to ask. You turn up the volume in your head until it threatens to split like a ripe plum. You tiptoe on the edge of your world, knowing that you’re this close to falling. You remind yourself that the shackles have been broken. But freedom is a twig you haul, tongue to groove, like an ant on cobblestones. You can’t be sure what is real.

You hold yourself against hope’s thin light and wonder if you still cast a shadow.

Circa 2003 (and can’t remember where it was published, but know it was somewhere)

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8 Comments »

Jim said:

this is why i fell in love with you, all those years ago.

# 27 September 2009 at 6:42 pm

anne cunningham said:

this was absolutely lovely, which is odd for me to say because it has nothing to do with being lovely. it has everything to do with those wicked sullen spots around the edges of every little thing we do that looks to the world like we are making progress. i’ve been hovering in this outer-edge and limited spot A LOT of late … months! i know, love and hate the spot all to well. i lament about it to the point that i am almost on the verge of bragging about how long “i’ve been there!” … but this afternoon, reading this (just like walking around an art fair this morning and rubbing shoulders with other goofy artists), i read this and some of my sore spots felt like they might heal over … at some point … because, as you have so rightly/writely stated and shown with your words … things like this linger, take time … lots of time …

# 27 September 2009 at 10:33 pm

Po said:

I freaking love that last line! That is a quotable quote. It is beautiful.

# 28 September 2009 at 12:04 am

Lydia said:

You are such an amazing writer. I’m glad you’re doing more of it again.

# 29 September 2009 at 3:25 am

koe said:

Candy – I love the new look. So many wonderful, scary images here. Too many to mention. Your words are so masterfully chosen – so stark. paper cups and empty days, paper days and empty cups.

# 1 October 2009 at 4:39 am

Nothing profound said:

More magnificent writing. One startling image after another. Poetry of the highest order. You know “It’s the music, not the meaning, that counts.”

# 2 October 2009 at 5:25 pm

timethief said:

WOW! That’s all I ever have to say about your writing because it blows me away and I simply do not have anything meaningful to say in comments. Mea culpa