“I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I aim with my eye.

I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I shoot with my mind.

I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father.
I kill with my heart.”

-Stephen King, The Gunslinger

This is a wordle I made of one of my favorite Christmas songs:

Image: wordle.net

Oh my friends I’ve
Begun to worry right
Where I should be grateful
I should be satisfied

Oh my heart I
Would clap and dance in place
With my friends I have so
Much pleasure to embrace

But my heart is
Returned to Sister Winter
But my heart is
As cold as ice

Oh my thoughts I
Return to summertime
When I kissed your ankle
I kissed you through the night

All my gifts I gave everything to you
Your strange imagination
You threw it all away

Now my heart is
Returned to Sister Winter
Now my heart is
As cold as ice

All my friends, I’ve
Returned to Sister Winter
All my friends, I
Apologize, apologize

All my friends, I’ve
Returned to Sister Winter
All my friends, I
Apologize, apologize

All my friends, I’ve
Returned to Sister Winter
All my friends, I
Apologize, apologize

And my friends, I’ve
Returned to wish you all the best
And my friends, I’ve
Returned to wish you all the best
And my friends, I’ve
Returned to wish you all the best
And my friends, I’ve
Returned to wish you a happy Christmas

To wish you a happy Christmas
To wish you a happy Christmas
To wish you a happy Christmas
To wish you a happy Christmas

I once loved you like the night loves the day
Touching briefly and then, inexorably,
Moving away

Dawn turns to twilight
And twilight fades to blackness

In the cold, in the dark
I am there

I loved you twice
First with my head in your hands
Me weeping

And then I broke your heart

I broke it as brutally as I could
To set you free

And in those last words of yours
Which I pretended not to hear
You moved me to tears
Which I, in my callous way,
Would never let fall

Until finally

I loved you last
With the last of my false love

In words and in deeds I could not account for
I tricked myself into thinking I was yours

And then love, true love

Came

Like a wind

It is here now
It is at my back
Pushing me on
Calling me higher

And in your eyes
I see forever

This is a wordle that I made out of my poem:

Image: wordle.net

This is a wordle that I made out of my poem:

Image: wordle.net

Her ghost
Wakes me in the night
Calls my name
Clasps and kisses my hand
Unleashes an echoing laughter
Which haunts my waking hours
Telling of love left unspoken

Three times she said it
Each time I deflected
What my soul felt most and now
Can never say

“There is an existential kernel about who I am nestled somewhere in here. I choose not to nail it down like some bug in a Victorian display.”

Now I shall go delete said draft and forever suppress the rest of it. It only got worse.

Let’s categorize this one as a “where I was at.”