Letting go

of an ideal of perfection is equally and concurrently liberating and scary

but the older I get the more I see the possibilities contained within the mistaken, the broken, the misshapen and the downright ugly

maybe because I have to

nonetheless, in the mess and the lack of punctuation, under the dust and dog hair, in the grit and the mud and the blush and the sweat of it and the tumbling incoherent words of everything

and all of it

so, (and) you should never start a sentence with that word, don’t you know?

so, today I may have taught a class with all of the above. And ketchup round my mouth.

and teeth on loan like overdue library books

Breathtaking Landscapes from Old Books by Guy Laramee

Posted on January 30, 2012, in Art, Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. I love this so much. Such a great poem! 🙂

  2. Cool pic. A diva should have someone to sort these things

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