Tuesday, January 1, 2013

A Welter of Negotiation

It's funny how frogs can balance on lily pads. One question can make seven days feel like forever! In my dreams, I wanted you to act, and then later - walking down a long hall - was accosted by authorities who seemed to know my intentions better than me. When we wake up, we don't always want to.

A little light on the neighbor's barn, a cat sleeping near the pillows. One writes, one does, and one does write. We are always asking: is it enough? There is no end - it seems - to the nastiness to which I am partial.

In my dream, you died, and the funeral was a welter of negotiation. Flushed cheeks, a woman with lupus who commanded your attention, and so I drifted. Still. He means that despite his happiness - and his longing to stay in it - he left and blamed you.

We give away the wrong thing! Money matters, kindness matters, coherence matters. Yesterday, the sourdough bread turned out lovely and everybody said so. Why am I the one who has to do all the writing?

I climbed a mountain and immediately saw it was just a symbol. Yesterday's healed fear is today's unhealed fear and so what now. Pay attention! The moment passes, yes, but where?

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