On the Richard Record

One nation held the eyes of the world on September 11th, and the world’s perspective saw a scramble. A scramble like one of those rides at the carnival, circling and circling, spiraling downward and going nowhere. But as their eyes evaporated dizziness, and the ride stopped, the world watched 11 turn to 12. A 12 that, through compelling courage, not hectic hate, United 50.   Here’s some words said during last night’s debate that, when scrambled, are just maybe a tad more inspiring and less hateful: We did something everybody said couldn’t be done. We terminated catastrophe, and that is why, out of exhaustion and boredom, we have so much more in common than what separates us. In the not-so-distant future, we don’t have to go back. I would love to, for all Americans, talk about extreme. One of the greatest mistakes, and remember this, is to point fingers at each other and the only person on stage destroyed our county. Exclamation point (!). Through the genius and he...

  once over the edge, never again   will the drops of love ever flow through the same stream? asked the paddler who stroked the tender waters, lonely but hopeful, that would eventually pour for splits of seconds   each pull creating the underwater whirlwind where wonder, because beautiful things fall short of lasting, is all that is left behind the memory of a single insignificant drop that roared into regret?   some drops get stuck beat down gasping for the air they don’t need   ripple, after, over, crash burdening the bathymetry of an eddie so evil those who can’t let go   are suffocated   by the water that falls through love but not long enough for love to flow through water