It’s been a long day


Each evening
comes from a new place.
Maybe this is the other life
we were meant to live.
It leans against you as the wind.

~ Richard Jackson, from “Fear,” in Resonance: Poems

Sources: photo – life is beautiful. Poem: to escape from the commonplace of existences

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

dog, pet,photography

Source: thesensualstarfish

T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week


Source: gifak

Riding Metro North. In Delirium.


Missed the 8:36 pm train.
Within Seconds.
9:06 it is.
Doesn’t matter. Just doesn’t matter.
Lit up with a smooth VO Manhattan.
Misted with a fruity Merlo.
Work and worry numbed. Novocaine.
Feeling Easy Like Sunday Morning. On Tuesday.
Hour 17 and on a Midnight Run.

Delirium? Likely.
Darkness? Doubt?  Can’t touch me.

Robin Williams stops by for a chat.
Friend there’s time.
Enjoy Happy Land.
Wallow in the feathery bliss.
A mere 6 hours from re-start
and it’s
Good Morning,Vietnam!


It’s Been A Long Day


So far, so good.
The brilliant days and nights
are breathless in their hurry.
We follow, you and I.

– Lisel Mueller, Curriculum Vitae 1992



It’s been a long day


O blurred.
O tumble-rush of days
we cannot catch.

— Deborah Landau, from “Solitaire


Credits: Poem excerpt via Fables of the Reconstruction. Photograph – mennyfox55

Scorecard is in. Grim.



It’s been a long day


I’ve seen what’s to come—
it is the days,
the steady pounding of days,
like gentle rain,
that will be our undoing.

— John Philip Johnson, from “There Have Come Soft Rains,” Rattle (No. 45)



Sunday Morning: The tinkling of a spoon against china


Silence is now offered as a luxury good. In the business-class lounge at Charles de Gaulle airport, what you hear is the occasional tinkling of a spoon against china. There are no advertisements on the walls, and no TVs. This silence, more than any other feature of the space, is what makes it feel genuinely luxurious. When you step inside and the automatic airtight doors whoosh shut behind you, the difference is nearly tactile, like slipping out of haircloth into satin. Your brow unfurrows itself, your neck muscles relax; after twenty minutes you no longer feel exhausted. The hassle lifts. Outside the lounge is the usual airport cacophony. Because we have allowed our attention to be monetized, if you want yours back you’re going to have to pay for it.

~ Matthew B. Crawford, The World Beyond Your Head: On Becoming an Individual in an Age of Distraction

Photo: Edisaacs | – Cup,Saucer And Spoon Photo

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call


Source:Et in Arcadia Ego*