quiet day

It's rainy and blustery outside, not that I've ventured out, and I made the mistake of reading the news for the first time this week. I'd planned to catch up on email today, but instead I'm going to curl up and read Kage Baker's The Graveyard Game... back tomorrow and maybe cheerier. In the meantime, here's a poem:

The Cities Inside Us

We live in secret cities
And we travel unmapped roads.

We speak words between us that we recognize
But which cannot be looked up.

They are our words.
They come from very far inside our mouths.

You and I, we are the secret citizens of the city
Inside us, and inside us

There go all the cars we have driven
And seen, there are all the people

We know and have known, there
Are all the places that are

But which used to be as well. This is where
They went. They did not disappear.

We each take a piece
Through the eye and through the ear.

It's loud inside us, in there, and when we speak
In the outside world

We have to hope that some of that sound
Does not come out, that an arm

Not reach out
In place of the tongue.

--Alberto Rios