Making Others Crawl

Her shoulders in my mind. Purple is where red and blue meet, is there another color so worthy? The rain passes, I thought this time it might not.

 

A plan is not an assault upon the cosmos but investment in the plan’s outcome might be. Apple, garlic and banana smoothies. What you call art I do not call art.

 

We meet in chapels and fields, we meet by rivers and where rivers meet the sea. “Far out.” We go deeply into Scooby Doo, past what the text itself supports, and into our own living, which is also frightened, hungry and companionate.

 

Walk with me? Fionnghuala asks for help describing the jewelry she is selling, I struggle to find a language that appeals to her, she is so determined to forge an identity that is not contingent on family and this has a lot to do with language. Making others crawl through the temple, my favorite sin. 

 

Or was I just confused? The mountains appear lush in the morning light, deep and strong, and one is comforted accordingly, one is held upright on the earth. Counting the days.

 

I remember thirty years ago in Burlington learning I was a radio, and just the other day I learned what station to which I am tuned. Cinnamon raisin bagels with cream cheese, hot coffee with cream and sugar, the pageantry of the world so perfectly welcome. Is that a roll of lifesavers in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, it’s both, I hope that’s not a problem.

 

New metaphors for the heart – what if we just don’t anymore? Out of school, out of church, out of time.