The Art of Tetman Callis

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Gulls Cry

August 7th, 2013 · 6 Comments

Reality is looking for a job.
The money won’t last.
This idyll won’t last.

The northeast breeze rolls the waves onto the beach.
Where the sun reflects from the water, I cannot look.

Gulls cry.
What fresh heaven is this?

Tags: Economics · Oniontown · Poems · Words

6 responses so far ↓

  • 1 Averil // Aug 8, 2013 at 1:17 pm

    You can look. And when you close your eyes, you may see the patterns of light on the water.

  • 2 Tetman Callis // Aug 8, 2013 at 5:47 pm

    the surface of the water is a four-dimensional emulation of the structure of spacetime. i enjoy thinking about that as i watch the lake.

    the color of the water shifts constantly within a range of blues and greens and whites and golds. one moment i will look, then i will read a page in a book, then i will look at the lake again and it will have changed.

  • 3 Harry // Aug 9, 2013 at 6:33 am

    It made me happy, reading this.
    You took a risk, moving your life. Already, rewards.
    Many more will follow.
    Congratulations to you and yours, for having the courage to live.

  • 4 admin // Aug 9, 2013 at 2:17 pm

    thank you, harry. a wise man once told me to find the thing that frightened me and do it.

  • 5 Donna Everhart // Aug 10, 2013 at 9:11 am

    A great example of not wasting words. What a picture this painted. It will all work out…try not to worry, enjoy what sounds like a beautiful place.

  • 6 Tetman Callis // Aug 10, 2013 at 9:56 am

    Thank you, Donna. I’m always worried about something (a man’s gotta have a hobby).

    This morning I took my shoes and socks off and walked for the first time into the wavelets lapping the beachlet (it’s a short beach — you can see it on Google Maps, it’s Rogers Beach Park in Chicago).

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