December 12th, 2007


(no subject)

Those of you who don't ride MAX in Portland may not be aware that they sometimes post poetry where the advertisements usually go. I saw this one this morning, excerpted from a poem called Telephone Repairman by Joseph Millar:

We live so much of our lives
without telling anyone,
going out before dawn,
working all day by ourselves,
shaking our heads in silence
at the news on the radio.

He thinks of the many signals
flying in the air around him
the syllables fluttering,
saying please love me,
from continent to continent
over the curve of the earth.