Hi.
Coffee: Maxwell House Master Blend, Office Coffee
I’m watching the stop along the top of my closet door because it’s something I can see without moving and I don’t want to move right now. I did think about it, moving. I wanted the cold, something outdoors, a flushed moon. A picture to fit the things I’m feeling, a bridge from out there to in here. Paper-light. Blowing away.
But I kept my feet under the covers and I’m looking at the stop. It’s present. And that says something. It’s vibrant. There are colors, metal, paint. I don’t know every nook and cranny. That’s frightening, a bit, because here it is and I can only see so much. Unlike the moon, I didn’t make it – I didn’t dream it up. I’ve got no words but what it gives me. Like: daytime; invites; eggshell; the Marianas Trench.
There’s more to the world in front of me than I always give it credit for. And the things I do give credit to are more in front of me than my dreams sometimes admit.
Currently Reading: Another Country, James Baldwin
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I’ve had enough of chasing after poetry; I believe that poetry lies at one’s very door or perhaps in one’s very bed.
Gerard de Nerval, Selected Writings
Livesay Writing 