I miss you. sometimes.
or. sometimes I notice that I miss you. but I think that I miss you. always.
it’s a wishing word. always. no one. is here for always.
still. you are still within reach.
dare I. reach.
if I open my hand. and close my hand to hold. can I trust
that my hand. again. will ever open.
—Ditta Baron Hoeber, from section IX of “rose rising,” American Poetry Review (v. 40, no. 3, May/June 2011)
Art is a journey into the most unknown thing of all - oneself. Nobody knows his own frontiers… I don’t think I’d ever want to take a road if I knew where it led.
Artist: Tamas Vasary
Album: Debussy: Suite Bergamasque. Clair de Lune