Small Case Against Perfect Solitude by Karen Craigo
Sometimes I listen for
that inner lake whose ripples
come and come.
When there is nothing
I feel empty, but not
in the desired way, empty-
but-waiting-to-be-
filled—just alone, maybe
a little hungry.
And what words arrive
are jarring, like a sneeze
between movements,
a ringtone in a basilica.
I prefer the murmur
of voices in the west gallery,
furnace hum, a sketcher
dropping a pencil,
its paradiddle as it rolls
across the tile. Art by Caris Reid
Recommended listening: The Middle of the World by Nicholas Britell When You're Drifting - Mojave 3
Links of the Day: Dear Donald/drawings for Donald Like, Why Do We Use Like So Much?
Video: Metal Displacement Reactions (Photos of white silver and black lead generated during metal displacement reactions, shot with a microscope.)