Archives for the month of: May, 2014


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arabesqueA decorative style. Yes. Also in ballet. Commands embedded deep in my amygdala issue forth in our teacher’s voice. “Weight on front foot, other foot back with pointed toe just touching floor, knee rotated out, one arm extended up at angle, one arm extended down at angle, all angles correct, eye fixed on raised hand. And hold.” Even now, fifty years later, if anyone within earshot happens to say this word, it’s hard to keep my body from displaying automatic obedience. Okay, I just stood up and did one.

screwYours was a pretty famous guy. He lived a long time ago in Greece and invented a bunch of useful machines, including a screw that lifts water from a lower to a higher level when you turn it. Very handy. It’s an open question whether he got this idea from you. That would have made him an expert on Paleozoic corals in addition to all the other cool shit he was into. I guess we’ll never know, since both of you have been extinct for a good long while now.

arches2(1) Great portal of forgetfulness, that history had no beginning. (2) An opening in a hedge where yellowjackets nest, the neighbor’s black dog sees me coming. (3) Today’s split-second magic spell: may all be well in this dark house. (4) A key to keep in the pocket of my jeans, freedom of never asking the next question. (5) A tower room, a Greek patroness, a lunatic dishwasher, a boyfriend who would not wait. (6) A playhouse on a wooded path headed away from any direction I want to be going, a taste like chemical ambition, uncertain toeholds, too many trains. (7) Last betrayals, head-on impacts, mythic dividings of household goods carried out onto the sidewalk. (8) Peace, art, work, rest. (9) An unoccluded view, snow on city streets, a primer on bees. (10) Walnut trees in every kind of weather. (11) Unexpected terrain of snakes and rainbows eventually domesticated by a rented lawnmower, a retinue of random companions, chimney swifts at dusk, sound of linen thread being pulled through paper. (12) A perch in leafy corridors, all my pasts flying home for accounting. (13) A jar for capturing sunlight bounced off water, a stick fire under a sliver of moon, our bed, sand forever riding in on our shoes.

apple tree borerAfter the afterparty, he got a lot of mileage out of that stick-on moustache. And after that, too.