TEA. DISHES. PUT eggs away. Hoa and Waylon nap in another room. Got Sonic Youth on the CD player. Waylon Jennings too. K plays with his blocks. The day's grey again, middle month. He knocked heads with the babe last night. Yowling penetrated the house. Cooked burgers and washed dishes. There's cat puke on the windowsill. Crumbs in corners. Keep the dishes clean. Paper chains hang in doorways. The neighbors left pizza and a bowl of irises. And I've got two eyeballs on this all. The material function strikes with relentless vigor. But when I stand back the laws of physics cease to apply. This thing, my "self," moves through, quite apart, attendant to these domestic relations. K enters his growing and divers worlds. Spinning, he dances with people I can't see. The black stone today's amorphous, a gas that spreads and reforms in us solid. The sun's black behind those clouds and we haven't seen a moon in days.
Posted by Dale at May 4, 2004 07:19 PM'Got Sonic Youth on the CD player. Waylon Jennings too.'
It's a beautiful thing.
Posted by: David on May 5, 2004 04:10 AM