turn left, then right, then left again

14 June, 2009

Douglas Fir

I’m still too tired to write, I think. Hundreds of thank yous, painstakingly scribed in illegible handwriting and bedecked in the unspoken magic of canceled stamps are traveling, or sojourned somewhere near the mail tray.

Yes, I’m still far too tired to write- that last sentence made no sense at all and took too long doing it.

Today I started digging out the mud pit that is also a mountain that is also the ghost of a pine that is also the home of a gas line, which, thanks to the meso-cyclone, I now know exactly how scary it is to have rupture.

I’m clean now, showered, hands red and blistered from the shovel, it’s hard to see that I’ve done anything at all.

But that is, I remind myself, kind of the idea. Work until you bleed just so things can look like you haven’t done any work, so it doesn’t look like the sky fell, so you don’t see the ghost of a tree. Looking out there now, all I can see is the ghost, all hot and holey and blinding in the sunlight. And I’m sick of stepping in mud, so I guess I must dig out place where the knowledge used to be, even it out, wait till it rains, and hope it still looks like I haven’t done anything.

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One Response to “turn left, then right, then left again”

  1. harliquin Says:

    quoting the last line my tongue,
    fat and swollen from digging out new words, mouths them for my yellow book,
    perfect against the fogged pain the strangers room I stay in.


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