Tuesday, January 11, 2022

Day After Night After Day

This woman with whom everything remains imaginal, as if endlessly deconstructing and recreating some fundamental imago. How our mothers are doing and how they are letting us know. I give up on prayer, turn to the poems, give up on the poems, and just sit in the hay loft, as if that were the purpose of existing. One mistakes moonlight for snow, then for frost, then frost for snow, and then loves a gray world and then nothing at all. Shared goals necessitate shared maps but not the other way around - a lot of relationship difficulties are solved thusly. Imagine entering a body of water together at dusk, wrapping up in each other and floating past the shallows as one body, and imagine loons floating out to greet us, teaching us their song. Making adjustments in order to hunt herkimer diamonds in this life, this new way of relating to starlight, this new way of caring enough to keep going. It's not cowboys and pilgrims all the way down, nor men nor turtles, nor even directions like "up" and "down." Basically inviting others to realize it's a game, yes, but a non-zero-sum game. All the way out to where the road ends, day after night after day.

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