Monday, August 16, 2021

Visiting Wasps

Slicing open apples under the tree to see what is inside, as if there were a mystery one could solve with knives alone. Babylon was a city and remains findable to those partial to the relevant maps. I wonder when I won't need to write anymore about the empty sockets in the fine skull of the blind horse. The fires we are, the fires we are consumed by.

Stacks of books on the dresser, a data point among extensive other indicia, indicating that something remains unsettled in my mind. Trading Ken Wapnick stories. A kiss is a kind of recognition, a sign of respect among equals, and a way of forwarding relationships unto the - how did our brother put it - malkut. 

Fireflies at night by the apple trees where I go to experience the deeper quiet that is the outskirts of Love. Breezes from among the faroff stars. At last one understands the invitation was unto silence rather than the explainable. Oh you and your big brain, I wonder what you're compensating for!

The ocean as a metaphor for sex - saltiness, tides and their obeisance to the moon, waves and currents, seagulls singing above the froth and now and then an enormous beautiful whale sounding as if nothing else in the world mattered but the absolute joy of the embodied.

Visiting wasps where yesterday a bucket of watermelon rinds was dumped on the compost but they're busy, don't want to talk, have said all they're going to say, et cetera.

Look at the faithful driving to church! While up the street, neighbors argue over whose job is it to wash the car. I'm not Sunday anymore, I'm something else.

What is closed? Sophia and I talk about Sherlock Holmes, Jaws, witches, whether Shakespeare was himself irritated with Hamlet, and how far into politics comedy can go and still be funny. I remember one time all these praying mantises outside their apartment in Fall River, and being allowed to go outside to marvel at them, not understanding how a city could be even briefly more magical than growing up on a farm.

All stories need a hero, says the guy who has been figuring exclusively in his own since he first recognized the difference between mind and world

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