I feel my diaphragm, it wants to contract. It wants to lift up and pull in. It wants to furl up like an umbrella.
Daily Archives: June 25, 2007
I see a caret, arrow, circumflex.
I see accents aigu and grave.
I see tomorrow but only in my mind.
I see the table and the paper.
I see vigor. I see sunlight.
I see a flimsy tissue, leaves printed on one side and a small saying on the other. Inserted into envelopes. Like bank deposits, or like cookie envelopes. Anything. Or in a stack of slips, withdrawal or deposit, anything.
No need to drink this latté. No need to say “doppio.”
Fabric rent. I want a shibori jacket.
No tears today.
Today no tears.
I feel a curvature in my stomach, a sensation preceding tears.
I complain.
Yellowstone.
Somewhere there is quiet there is desert, there are trails. Somewhere there is dust warming in the early sunlight. Somewhere hares are twitching, coyotes scratching, sage brush glowing scented in the air. Somewhere.
june 25, 2007
I will only be here for five minutes.