She seems to wrestle with anyone nearby. Her mortality and guilt are rotting inside a chaffering heart, trapped in her own oppressive system. But there are also her lips - so warm and salty from a day of south wind. I turn my head sharply as I roll down a steeply inclined plane.
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If this thing keeps moving it will make me think that it is preparing for a predatory attack. I thought I might roll it in a piece of oilcloth, but the tentative sound of its hissing weakened my determination. So, instead, I jumped down from my rock perch and began picking rose mallow flowers, carefully balancing myself on my two wooden legs.
She clings with trembling fingers to the iron grille. “Nothing but random impressions here,” the moon remarks, “No harm in all this; the sun loves to give a terrifying look.” And then her pitying heart began to stir.
The last few lines actually grew in importance since they were originally written. Their cosmic disposition would have laughed like a horse. There are many vexing questions raised by quiet voices reading from notes held in trembling hands.
It was last Tuesday when I came to my senses. I had been lying in bed for weeks. My head was more than offset with the sound of a cracking ceiling. In the gutter outside my bedroom, space, light and solitude were hanging in the air, as if conscious of my impulses.
history - whatever - “history” / remember - the last moment / we were what we had been / whatever - is the process / creating - nostalgia and its accoutrements
I’ve seen many things that seem so heartbreaking. I had surgery recently and was on a diet of bread and garlic for many months. During this time I filled my veins with oxygen and was absolutely speechless with happiness.
Early in the morning I leave biscuits outside my front door. It was nearly six when I heard a loud noise. I stopped, and with an armload of books, met a man at the door with a bloodstained cleaver in one hand, and a biscuit in the other.
The elements of happiness are of transitory peace and plenty. Learning to play is, in important ways, a promising foundation to build on. Early on I have always noted that lying on your stomach and gazing down into the earth prevents crying in your sleep.
She enjoyed telling people that I looked like someone standing on the lips of hell. I think she was cruel saying this, and I was vexed by her assessment. Fortunately, though, through her patched rags I could see a dead calm that was unbelievably romantic.
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August 2018
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