august
14 2020
7:14 pm
as i
sit to write, a loon wails
over the lake.
i
wish i did not have this story
to tell. but i have to tell
it.
...
as a
child, you visit cottages,
some more than others
and
some adults rent cottages
which are filled with things
from another era
as
you rifle through the drawers
and cupboards
hunting for the "good enough"
tool
you
find strangers things which
may have belonged to strangers
to the strangers
or
so it seems.
who
bought that old green
strainer?
where did these glasses with
cartoon characters come from?
and
how many church picnics has
this tupperware attended.
and then there is a really
hardcore garlic press.
it's the one sitting in this
cottage's kitchen.
it was bought by me.
in 1994.
it made a
Description
Rijsttafel for sixteen people. donna put the
orange rinds in her teeth and we took pictures.
it made endless moussakas for people who thought they
didn't like moussaka.
it made the most beautiful Mediterranean pizzas.
it made pesto and dinner and dinner and dinner.
DescriptionRijsttafel
.... to
be continued ...
august
14 2020
6:47 am
is it
one decision
welcome, welcome, ringing ears.
vacuum
mattress cover
o
august
13 2020
8:09am
one eye
still closed, waiting for the right
amount of caffeine and trying to
appear invisible
because no matter what i do
i am never invisible
e
i used to be invisible;
i used to have peace;
all that is gone
all those years of silence;
settling;
gone
and it shows in my face
in my one open eye
and in my silence.
august 12 2020
7:35 am
these moments
alone used to be free of charge: daily:
and without guilt
then they became precious
now they are impossible.
perhaps not everyone requires them.
but i do.
august 10 2020
6:08pm
if i have to only say what you
want to hear
if i have to choose my words
and monitor my thoughts
to accommodate you
...
then you drain me.
and as i age, and age, and age,
you drain me more
and more
and more.
august 9 2020
1:02pm
there are different aesthetic ideals;
the one planned and expensive
and curated:
and the one randomly assembled with things that are
"good enough"
which become the building they live in because
someone hung them there.
............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
august 4 2020
7:52am
while the words may not spill onto this page
they slosh around in my head
daily
periodically, very large periods i sleep
from the time i sleep until the time i wake
and a nostalgia comes over me
it's called feeling human...
when i wake before 8 and have time to wake before life
hits
to listen to the rain
to make a bed or two
and to wake in peace
and quiet
and silence
and normal thoughts come to my mind
like is it someone's birthday today
or perhaps mine
and then memories of the old days
pass me by
while i brush them off
as quickly as they come
because really,
who needs that
i prefer to recall the old days of my parents:
the musicals in the school basement
the crazy fishing stories
the innocence
and a dream brainiac idea is forming in my head
it's got things on the wall: a museum of sorts:
and now dishtowels from Germany
with captions
essentially a museum of my life
something i never imagined
while i built it.
august 1 2020
9.27am
i know it's
brutal
you're alone;
and in the
blink of an eye
the swoosh of a
screen door
the day
the most
beautiful sunshine;
the temperature
the calm
the pureness of
august first a a new page
pulled from under
me
cracked
in half;
perhaps that is
how i dealt with what was my past
the peace of my
thoughts
the moments alone
