January 2011
5 posts
December 2010
10 posts
forget the sappy poem i’d write
about the things i’ve lost
it’d only be half truth, you see
‘cause everyone’s better off
the joys that fill our days are greater
than painful times that stayed
inside a box called meaningless
where it can be replayed
how miniscule the shoulda-coulda-woulda’s
how vast are days ahead
i’d be an idiot not to use them...
life isn’t as short as they say
my once-black pants sit on my legs, i see the bleach spots and the torn fabric, then my eyes fall to my shoes, the ones i bought on sale that look even cheaper now, paired with my sister’s oatmeal-coloured socks. a sweatshirt hangs on my body like a big thick washcloth and the right sleeve is being held together by seven safety pins. my strange red hair hides the familiar brown hair...
“…the answer lies in seeing food more as a shared resource, like water,...”
– Joel Berg, executive director of the New York City Coalition Against Hunger
http://www.newsweek.com/2010/11/22/what-food-says-about-class-in-america.html