 - Last login: 10 hours agoMindHunterINFJ
- MH/Jack is a 59 year old married guy from Hot Springs, Arkansas, USA.
- Likes 7,405 pages, 185 videos, 75 photos • 5,466 fans • Received 370 reviews
- Member since Sep 02, 2006
A creative writer, my book, CHILDHOOD'S REND: MEMORIES OF THE DOG STAR, is FREE at Scribd.com. I'm a 100% intuitive INFJ and am looking for INFJ's/creative/super-intelligent people to share my creativity, to engage in scintillating conversations, and to establish Siriusian mind-melds or mind2mind connections. I love Faulkner, Kristofferson, Prine, Seger, Simon & Garfunkel, Dali, wood fireplaces, rain on a tin roof, the smell of wisteria, honeysuckle, and new-mown hay, candles, incense, stream-of-consciousness writing, and intense conversations. I am a Kierkegaardian existentialist Christian who thinks it is more rational to believe in God than not, but I do not hesitate to question him or Him, and I have far more problems with this Creature/Entity/First Cause than with Jesus, whose teachings were and still are relevant, revolutionary, and transformative. I love cosmology and space, inner and outer, and am fascinated with time and the concept of infinite and parallel universes.
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And there are black crows
crying, "Caw, caw,"
bringing mud and sticks
building a nest over the words carved
on the doors where the panels were cedar
and the strips on the panels were gold
and the golden girls came singing:
We are the greatest city,
the greatest nation:
nothing like us ever was.
The only singers now are crows crying, "Caw, caw,"
And the sheets of rain whine in the wind and doorways.
And the only listeners now are ... the rats ... and the lizards.
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The feet of the rats
scribble on the doorsills;
the hieroglyphs of the rat footprints
chatter the pedigrees of the rats
and babble of the blood
and gabble of the breed
of the grandfathers and the great-grandfathers
of the rats.
And the wind shifts
and the dust on a doorsill shifts
and even the writing of the rat footprints
tells us nothing, nothing at all
about the greatest city, the greatest nation
where the strong men listened
and the women warbled: Nothing like us ever was.
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