The internet at my place went out last night. It's a long story (okay, it's not, but I'm just too lazy to explain the situation) but basically, I've never felt so lost and alone in my life (this may be an exaggeration). The first thing I do when I wake up is turn on my computer, and the last thing I do before I go to bed is turn off my computer. Call me obsessed with technology, a nerd, anti-social, whatever you want, I don't care. But do know that I manage four blogs, three Twitter accounts, three Facebook accounts, and two Pinterest accounts.
Anyway, as I was bawling my eyes out because I couldn't use my laptop to its fullest potential, I started packing up some of my stuff (I'm moving...one block away). I started in one corner of the room and packed up my books first, when I came across this thin poetry book.
I bought this book last summer. As you might know, Anis Mojgani is my favorite poet. Here is one of his poems.
At Eight
the hummingbirds buried themselves
in my belly my eyes swallowed up the evening a swarm in the hazy sunlight of
dusk buzzing silently bringing the bones of their beaks out the bushes in the
backyard our house was made of wood but stood on bricks standing on the back
steps I saw myths or gods childhood or all three taking shape together from the
green feathers carving figure eights inside the sunset a million wing beats the
blood kept rushing from knees to feet to skull like a secret I stood on the
stairs too fragile to move screen door held open by little fingers all but my
heart had forgotten how to breathe I was water turned solid the sun on the
other side of the trees undressed itself brightly into the approaching night
its flocks of fingers beckoned
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