1.7.08
At this precise moment I feel like I'm doing precisely what I'm supposed to be doing in such a way that my doing it is somehow precisely in accordance with the universe, the planets, the stars... precisely.
Sitting in my cozy room, lots of windows, fading yet brilliant late afternoon light, a cup of tea, Beethoven sonatas, and my journals. This is it, right here, ladies and gentlemen. This is ME.
Falling over, falling off.
Tipping over, tilting --
Slow motion, it hits the floor
and I am still
unwilling to accept a clumsy label
unknowing of motive behind
mishap,
after mishap,
after mishap --
I think it's vanished, a fluke, the moon,
but retaliation is futile,
Sticking, there in my mind to remind me
of my ineptitude, remind me
I am Human.
from 10.3.07
Pangs of guilt and regret of years of wishing and waiting, nagging like your own shadow surprising you on a dark walkway under pale diffused light, leaving you jolted, embarrassed, and still alone, still --
Like your empty bed sitting cold in your cold room with little beetles burrowing between the sheets and they'll be there when you get home, having seen no one and talked to no one worth mentioning or worth the feelings of your absent heart.
from 10.15.07
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