Leather Sandals

I call this the Western Frontier.

The Western Frontier calls no names. The silence is almost unbearable. Leather sandals collect sand and grind the soles of ten thousand disturbed feet. Sweat drips and water dries. Nothing could be more fulfilling than a memoir for a man not yet disturbed from death. Reading the script too few of us have engraved in our secluded, dirtied palm. The existence of sunrays meets the distinction of trees. The repetition of a collection that marches on, past the grave, as ink splurges out from the perimeter. He took it to heart: the wise eyes of a blade, he said. Spreading through veins, it finds a home and thanks you for your services. Distorting vision, hearts pounding, pulse drifting, feet lifting. Conclusion to what cause? Crawling though a cave like Sylvia Plath, she noticed the white washed clapboards taunting her to no end...or perhaps an endless end. Pain has temporary placements and soon reveals long-lasting desires. The tumbleweed passes and hits the wind-blown sand to create one solid crater in a Utopian society. Take away the one who holds the desire to remain tangible. Say your last speech and enter the Western Frontier.

Today's been a good day.

I read something interesting today in Amy Hempel's "Collected Stories"
"I like my dinner in a bag and my life in a box."
I think it describes the nature of most American citizens. Fast food & television: Fast and Efficient. Entertaining and Distracting. Painless and Enjoyable. Temporary. All of the things that dumb you down will give you a momentary high. Not for me, though. I think everlasting joy is something that resides in things like Wisdom and Knowledge. A television show cannot possibly supply enough knowledge for me. I won't remember what's going on with Kim Kardashian and her ridiculous boyfriend. I won't become smarter by watching Heros (no matter how much i love that show). But a book is written with intelligence. It's a beautiful art form that is greatly under-appreciated. I'm glad I don't eat out of a bag and live in a box. That's too restricted. Plain. And. Simple. I thank Amy Hemple for supplying wonderful literature that I may reflect on:)