I. The Revelation of Fabrics Nov 3, 2018

wind against canvas
two voices rising and falling
surrounded by the night and the air
bursts of laughter, a shadow-play of story tellers
the trees breathing great long sighs
uninterested in such trifles

shaking, collapsing
his cheeks red and crinkled soft like sheets
he nods unable to speak, pointing, doubling over
gasping for breath under the weight of the silliness
his gum cached beside his teeth, a glimpse
of his tongue joined in the convulsion
chewing again he shakes his head smiling
before succumbing again to the thought
eyes shut and Here

here is another of those perfect moments
which can never be created deliberately
or seen coming but when it happens, washes over you like sleep
like solving a problem you've thought about for years
like the warmth of seeing an old familiar place again
of finding long forgotten objects hidden in drawers
feeling the simultaneous separation and adjacency of time and thought
a moment where the world bends to meet itself
like kissing your own feet
without a pain in your spine

the canvas now is nibbled by moths as i patch it with duct tape
tan and blue warming in the sun out of the garage
flapping in the light breeze, a memory of last night's storm
shining the metal of the crossbars as the old tent takes shape
how simple and strange is space divided
how we divide space and how it feels to be somewhere
our sense of place is only half real
with the other half in people
near or far

Draw a card.


Linked from: II. The Queen of Snowdrops, III. The Line of Trinkets, IV. The Scholar of Forms, IX. The Necessity of Bricks, V. The Two of Embers, VI. The Persistence of Mysteries, VII. The Vectors of Thought, VIII. The Moon

Links to: II. The Queen of Snowdrops, do you see it yet?, gee, you're so beautiful that it's starting to rain