comings and goings

this bright flux gives and takes away
but more so to give and add to our joy
we spread ourselves throughout the world
to come back again soon
full with whispered treasures into one another's palms

give me summer

Portland, Maine

the monsters inside

we learn how to tame them

still knitting

When the time comes, let loose a tiger and a devil; but wait for the time with the tiger and the devil chained - not shown - yet always ready.

Charles Dickens - A Tale of Two Cities

'you will make me drink and smoke more i will drag you into the wilderness'

I am stretched over the mountains.

I wait at the edge of the continent by the water in a house filled with light in the morning and the evening with warm wood floors to toss glints around the room. I have started to speak your name around the city - it's moving through the valleys and mountains in spreads and whispers, breeze chimes of the future.

My hair will be a tangle of leaves.
You won't tell the difference between its strands and tree roots.
Kiss me into the mountain
Fuck me in wool blankets
I melt into you, the earth.

The days peel off get longer warmer one by one stretching time across the mountains to where you're still in winter. The strengthening sun draws me down through the forest down the cliffs to the water and I beg the ocean for you to materialize in front of me -

soon, soon to the steadfast

the water calls.
I am stretched across the mountains
to where you are in winter
steadfast
material
soul sent ahead of you
safe at my house
light, by the water
at the edge of the continent
I wait
steadfast
glinting
for you in real life.

soul landscape

on the waste, beneath the sky, distinguished by Watt as being, the one above, the other beneath, Watt. That before him, behind him, on all sides of him, there was something else, neither sky nor waste, was not felt by Watt. And it was always their long dark flowing away together towards the mirage of union that lay before him, whichever way he turned. The sky was of a dark colour, from which it may be inferred that the usual luminaries were absent. They were. The waste also, needless to say, was of a dark colour, which is hardly to be wondered at. Watt also was very naturally of the same dark colour. This dark colour was so dark that the colour could not be identified with certainty. Sometimes it seemed a dark absence of colour, a dark mixture of all colours, a dark white. But Watt did not like the words dark white, so he continued to call his darkness a dark colour, plain and simple, which strictly speaking it was not, seeing that the colour was so dark as to defy identification as such.
The source of the feeble light diffused over the scene is unknown.
Further peculiarities of this soul-landscape were:
The temperature was warm.
Beneath Watt the waste rose and fell.
All was silent.
Above Watt the sky fell and rose.
Watt was rooted to the spot.

Beckett - Watt

cat cage III

defer defer and when and when soon soon soon prolong draw out put off put off wait and wait and wait and wait and want and wait hungry feral lightning chest draw it in control control patience hunger stand and wait it out and still be still and wait for when the waiting's done wanting what's waiting past close horizon.

the world

slowly reconciles itself to the rightest possible way.

sidewalk vs le tree massif

once, thinking himself clever, a smug sidewalk bullied its way over a tree's roots.

'deaf dog, dirty manger,' thought the tree.

the tree stretched and whispered to the sidewalk, 'i will out-wait you.'

the leaves of the next tree over got wind of the plot chiming, 'vive le revolution!'
and grew onward.

the wind shook his head and laughed at the fat, happy sidewalk, facedown wallowing in the mud, and zephyred west.