elizabeth lane lawley
michael "OC" clarke
e v h e a d
sweet fancy moses
wood s lot
m. melting object
Thursday, October 30, 2003
what it wants / may 2002
I drove back into town, then cut
east again to the end of Walnut.
Parked. There's an open-space path
out there, a big sidewalk really,
running along Boulder Creek. I
walked until it met the tracks. Cut
off the path, sat down by the
stream. Little purple flowers.
Dandelions. Water rushing. I closed
my eyes and listened. Felt where it
wouldn't let go. Heavy, a weight in
my heart, my solar plexus. Right
around there. What do I do to help
it come undone? Open up, let it
out. I fell asleep sitting there,
off and on. Just for a second
disappeared. A flicker. And in
there somewhere I knew there was
nothing to do, undo, nowhere to
hold or let go. This is just what
it feels like. You let it feel that
way. Let it have what it wants of
you. Let it show you what it sees.
Carry it with you. A movie of our
lives together, from the first time
we kissed. Fire on the mountain.
Going to the store that time. The
plum tree in your yard, its
branches bare after the long
summer. Parting, loss. Stones and
flowers in the snow. The crane in
Tokyo where there are no cranes,
flying low through the mist in
Rikugien like tears in rain. And
the last two years a frame at a
time. There are things that memory
cannot hold. Riverrun past Eve and
Adam's and messages on my answering
machine I still can't let myself
listen to. Can't answer. If you're
there, call me. If you're there...
5:55 PM | link |
get your badge here.
"RageBoy: Giving being fucking nuts a good name since 1985."
28 October 2004
||More of Chris Locke's photos
Until a minute ago, I had no photos. I still have no photos to speak of.
I don't even have a camera. But all these people were linking to "my photos."
It was embarassing. It's still embarassing. But I'm used to that.
what I'm listening to...
egr on topica
on yahoo groups
terms of service
It is too late.