“Blurtso meets Kahlil Gibran”

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Kahlil Gibran, said Pablo, in the section, “On Children”, writes:

“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.”

That’s very profound, said Blurtso. Yes, it is, said Pablo.
I wonder, said Blurtso, if Gibran was a donkey in a former life?

“Graham Cracker Crumbs” (XI)

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“Too many words”

Oh Lizzy,
too many words and too much motion
to describe the branch’s sway
and the afternoon of your eyes!

Buzz, hum, and flutter are slower words.
City whisper heard from the hills,
and voices’ splash crossing the canyon.

Seep in, stillness,
settle the swell of the sea!

Too many words, too much motion
to feel the feel of the earth,
its grass beneath the hooves,
its spray upon the cheek.

With so little wisdom,
with circles and struggles and haste,
how can I hope to catch the ripple
of your breath on the glass of my soul?

“Graham Cracker Crumbs” (X)

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“The moon found you”

Caught in the discarded straw
on the floor of the loft,
the broken rays reached toward you.
Like timid fingers they touched lightly,
then relaxed embracing your ankles.

Slowly, like a child entering water,
you were immersed in the light.
It moved like a gentle river
illuminating your cool flesh,
it flowed to the eddy of your knees
and grew in two rich currents
to meet at the top of your thighs.
Pausing, rising and falling with your breath,
tender waves rolled to your neck,
caressing your forelegs and breast.

As the light reached your eyes
I feared it might wake you,
so I blocked it with my hoof
and let you go on sleeping.

“Roman éClair” (III)

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“He wondered what she wondered and if she wondered what he wondered when she had time to wonder. But he couldn’t wonder when he had to do what he had to do, or she had to do what she had to do, but when he didn’t, and she didn’t, they did wonder.”

“Song for the asking”

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“Roman éClair” (II)

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“He said what she knew and she knew what he said but she couldn’t say what she knew. They walked thirty steps and said thirty words and counted each word that they stepped. He stopped when she stopped, until he could no longer stop, then he stopped, but didn’t say what he knew because he couldn’t say anything at all.”

“Roman éClair” (I)

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What are those? said Alex. They are papers for my English class. Your English class? said Alex. Yes, said Blurtso, the teacher showed us a book called, “Romans éclairs,” by Bernard Teyssèdre. It contains a series of one-paragraph novels. One-paragraph novels? said Alex. Yes, said Blurtso, “roman” means “novel,” and “éclair” means “lightining,” therefore “lightning novel.” Would you like to hear my first one? I’d love to, said Alex.

“She looked at him because he was looking, and he looked back. Then she spoke when he wasn’t speaking, and he spoke back, and they both listened. Time stood still while it passed, and no one saw what they were seeing when he spoke and she spoke and they both listened. And no one heard what they were hearing when they were both hearing.”