A restless night, too many of us in crisis. I feel myself falling into the flying apart.
My sleepless but drowsy concerns become like Surrealist images where components split apart, twisting in the distance.
A slow-motion spin of walls, wardrobes, kitchen drawers, bits of conversation, kalaidescope of images spanning years, remembered and loosened, geometric and organic, intersplicing in the distances between molecules.
It is a very tidy universe in magnified microcosm despite our messy realities.
Perhaps the holding together doesn't help; perhaps it's time to let go.
What is the mind if unfettered, uncomposed, freed of nervous culture?
No answers came, the warden was banished, the bars fell away.
In the tumbling of synapses firing randomly,
Was I freed?
Did I sleep? Fitfully, in relapses. When I woke the world was its illumined glossy enlightened place where warm sunlight spreads across bedspreads and there are hugs and warmth, French-press coffee and fresh bagels.
The world in its normal motion; everyone, fine.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
'serpent of leaves' appears in impromptu dance
Dancing over a rabbit warren in the roots of a green ash that was infected by the emerald borer and was cut down years ago, I wove my way up...
-
I sit before a large painting I am ready to trash to fret about my feelings towards it. Soon I am slapping paint all over the canvas. ___ ... -
Basquiat at the AGO: An Untitled Portrait When asked about his frequent use of "carbon" (tar, asbestos), Basquiat shot back, ... -
Pablo Valdivia, Breathing Underwater translated from the Spanish by Ross Woods Guernica Editions, Fall 2014 102 pages Trade Paperback...
wonderfully accurate - buddhist in the way it shows how thoughts arise and fall. But you hit on the experience really well.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Nathan. xo
ReplyDelete