Destruction? It’s all I know. I am my own downfall.
Blair
I find the most destructive force in my life is myself. I always have ideas wherein I envision myself finding greatest, yet I can never find a way to get the process started. I’m not sure what my end-goal is, and that is the biggest destruction on my life.
Laura
irene is on its way. i hear it from the tops of the windows, quivering with the breeze. how will irene be remembered? what will be its legacy? people pile into 99 cent stores and rite aid, buying up candles flashlights bottled water canned food, just in case. MTA closes down. LIRR closes down. lower east side is evacuated. we sit quietly at our computers, huddled in homes, wondering how bad its going to be. rain keeps pattering on 78th street. will it flood?
amytpaul
the core of the universe, the central driving force of nature – destroy and rebuild. it’s in my mind, it’s in what we see and what we do to each other. it isn’t always ugly. in theory it must be beautiful.
My jaw is tensed, I am silently but increasingly indignant. My jaw is clenched to diffuse the feeling, to prevent it from clouding my eyes and boiling forth from my lips in a storm of destruction.
Hurricane Irene is passing through right now, I hear it’s going to hit New York. Its already hit the Caribbean. I hope everyone’s okay, those who weren’t able to make it out or didn’t want to leave. I’m just glad I’m out of its path.
rain and fire are examples
see them create
wet and falling
or hot and licking into the atmosphere
either way both acts of creation
begin, as do all acts, with an act of
destruction
The destruction of the hurricane was minor at best. Disappointing, even, she dared to think as she muddled her way through the detritus that had become her yard, gray as thoughts. She had marvelled at the storm’s ability to skirt the recesses of her untroubled mind, the supposedly dramatic winds not even making a dent in her thoughts as she went about her business of boiling tea, pondering over boys, gazing at a pile of homework which ought to be done, and she could not decide whether the stability of her mind was that of an oasis or a stone.
Swirling winds
pounding rain
Trapped inside I gaze out my window…watching the destruction of homes and hearts.
Destruction? It’s all I know. I am my own downfall.
I find the most destructive force in my life is myself. I always have ideas wherein I envision myself finding greatest, yet I can never find a way to get the process started. I’m not sure what my end-goal is, and that is the biggest destruction on my life.
irene is on its way. i hear it from the tops of the windows, quivering with the breeze. how will irene be remembered? what will be its legacy? people pile into 99 cent stores and rite aid, buying up candles flashlights bottled water canned food, just in case. MTA closes down. LIRR closes down. lower east side is evacuated. we sit quietly at our computers, huddled in homes, wondering how bad its going to be. rain keeps pattering on 78th street. will it flood?
the core of the universe, the central driving force of nature – destroy and rebuild. it’s in my mind, it’s in what we see and what we do to each other. it isn’t always ugly. in theory it must be beautiful.
My jaw is tensed, I am silently but increasingly indignant. My jaw is clenched to diffuse the feeling, to prevent it from clouding my eyes and boiling forth from my lips in a storm of destruction.
Hurricane Irene is passing through right now, I hear it’s going to hit New York. Its already hit the Caribbean. I hope everyone’s okay, those who weren’t able to make it out or didn’t want to leave. I’m just glad I’m out of its path.
rain and fire are examples
see them create
wet and falling
or hot and licking into the atmosphere
either way both acts of creation
begin, as do all acts, with an act of
destruction
I couldn’t help it. There was no saving it, even if I had wanted to, but I didn’t. I was pleased with the plan, and it had displeased me.
My great marble palm was the last door that closed for it. Her, him, I’ll never have known. It screamed like what they call a bitch as I finished it.
I love the finality of life.
The destruction of the hurricane was minor at best. Disappointing, even, she dared to think as she muddled her way through the detritus that had become her yard, gray as thoughts. She had marvelled at the storm’s ability to skirt the recesses of her untroubled mind, the supposedly dramatic winds not even making a dent in her thoughts as she went about her business of boiling tea, pondering over boys, gazing at a pile of homework which ought to be done, and she could not decide whether the stability of her mind was that of an oasis or a stone.