Sunday, November 30, 2014

Parted Just A Little

Four a.m. is the stillness that receives me in (order to empty me (of me)). Or something like that. I could ramble all morning if she'd let me. Each exhalation is a tide falling away and yet remains welcoming, which is exactly the mystery I long ago resolved to solve. Coffee, not tea, and candles instead of the overhead, and curtains parted just a little so one or two stars remain visible. The tractor metaphor is clumsy because it implies there is something to fix. I am not trying to fix anything because there is nothing to fix, but there is something to see. Earlier, in the moist fields behind the old homestead, a sort of mist rising from punky snow, and a warm bellows coming up out of the cattail, I saw it. It is always there but we are very insistent on the prerogative of narrative-as-self, which functions as both shield and a veil. Also, we are very attached to the body's eyes, which are a mansion when a cottage is all one really needs. A distance that is not neglectful is the closest I can get to what you learn in your sojourns outside time. I wake to write, and write to awaken, and so the words are there. Well, they are always there, which is an answer if at this late juncture you want one.


  1. Sean the tractor metaphor may have been clumsy for you but it was a clearing house for me I was confused about where I was,but happy though im still leaning against it.I now can go from here in happier state of mind. thank you Sean l

  2. Thanks, Sean . .. I'm glad it was helpful . . . I actually really like tractors - my father had a very old one for a while and it was truly a beautiful machine . . .


  3. I still have one sean and it has needed to be repaired often.Idont use it any more as I am to old to drive it.because ihave had the experience of them the metaphor about them just hit home.It was so true of me and ineeded you totake the cataracts from my eyes so I could see clearly.