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2/25/01-Emergency frenzy dark chocolate covered cherries strawberries fresh bud star bursts silent owl flight wrath pounding out the grapes free swinging in the wind smell of smoke meeting death howdy renaissance two imminent storms feeding brought and offered fruit sweet juicy and dripping abandon politicians porn does he want her does he want her not new spring bonbon passion wet delicious compulsion limbs taut there's fire to the brink he took and took her again the end of things song of solomon avocado lips filled last days pomegranate seeds squeezed out spilled waking dream treated released...
2/20/01-Hard glance gritted teeth firm jaw pursed lips taking the tall cute marine new boy hank all open and affable after an all-nighter with her only daughter mary to breakfast this is not going well false laughter significant glances taking getting off on the wrong foot to new lows mary ignoring the flashing daggers goes on with a twittering shallow fresh beau self-indulgent joke telling and amusement making fun of hank's awkward antics during their evening on the town that led to bed theoretical physicists tell us that there really is no such thing as solid matter that time flows in two directions and that even the dimensions of space do not exist except in our minds that they are but a roughly functional and crude metaphorical adjustment to the way things truly are that existence has much more to do with music than geometry though neurosurgeons disagree hank's moves are self-assured as he takes possession of her daughter but has made an enemy he will not soon be forgiven even light some now believe may occasionally exceed its standard speed nothing is certain not even taxes and death is nothing extraordinary we all sooner or later do it quite adequately...
2/16/01-Long lines of fast moving cars like corpuscles course and flow along highway arteries for all our vaunted consciousness are we not in our individual lives in so many ways like the single-celled creatures each unique and perfect in itself in some manner independent yet somewhat incomplete as well each interdependent with and upon its animate and inanimate environment as the ground and foreground of an image gestalt are in intimate relation to one another there's a theory myth or inner truth of gurdjieff's that the realms within are governed by a mystical set of spheres and orbits that parallel those we know without and that there the wasted, entranced, unfocused, sleep-filled awareness of this world's beings is consumed by the earth's satellite so much potential insight gone to moonbeams and long, lunar thoughts all things have a function it seems if only to sustain others in their turn and yet are we not also much more than this we must awaken...
2/6/01-There's another startlingly great full moon on the horizon perhaps the only remaining one I'll see last evening a gecko in dark phase the first I'd noticed of the new season here was crawling slowly still cold across the front stonework of our shelter are we entering the next or yet leaving the last ice age what if we could see the full moon of an earlier epoch on this pearly world what lunacy intense to behold in all its overwhelming glory the magnificence of that sister orb when she stretched vastly across the firmament ten or a hundred times as huge as our setting sun's image where sky met molten land or primordial acidic ocean what immense tides deep down into geo's mantle must have fluxed ascites-like about this yet forming world even much later in our clan's primal experience how our ancestral folk must have thrilled transfixed at the undiluted blaze in the winter night of her lunar majesty sans modern distractions or urban haze is this the last time I shall behold the waning signs of winter or hear the birds heralding the opening of spring's grand symphony what wonders may be waiting beyond imagination's map and consciousness' compass like the salty inner red seas' alternate rush and rest there's a marvelously impelling flow and ebb to all things...
2/3/01-Mrs stanford called you
who
here's the number
hello mrs stanford
my name is
I had a message
oh
yes
through roundabout circumstances
calling you
our dog
you see
your father
we saw the signs
the name is changed
at your father's
before
when your parents lived
there
before spicewood springs became the indianapolis five hundred
your family
your parents
sheepdog
several puppies
years ago
my husband and I
given one we loved
so
when she died
after many years
we asked your father
if we might bury her
on his land close by
her mother
yes
he said
and remembered
after all those years
exactly the litter
and her in particular
she'd been the only
red one
he said
he talked about
her mother and her
in some detail
it was touching
so
we buried her there
near the creek
in the field
on the other side of the road
and now her daughter has died too
last night
we were wondering
we saw it's a different name
on the mailbox now
we found out
you were the one now
to ask
could we bury
her there too
near her mother
in the same field
near the creek
yes I said
you surely may
only things have changed
as you noticed
the city
contract for that land
landscape
trees shrubs
must stay the same
I'm sure
you would preserve it
that way when you bury her
but there's no way of knowing
how long
things will stay the same
after
if the city
parkland
if they'll leave it just
like it is now
oh yes I see
she said
and paused
to think of great bulldozers
roaring through
where our father had worked
and led goats and cows and buried our dog near the creek
and wild flowers
cactus
cedar
well
she said sadly
maybe
we'd better not
maybe
there'll be a better place
somewhere else now...
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