Sunday, April 2, 2017

The First Workless Morning in Months


Sitting for 30 minutes. Or 10 minutes; Or 5 minutes, there is the severe silence of something happening in the box of your head regardless of you.  Sally would speak of something soft and painful to the left while the right is making up images of lost cocktails and opportunities.  Someone’s worried in this room, using your voice to describe it, but its not as simple as simple and not as solid as self.  Self is upon the shelf while watching.  Watching is what happens when you listen.  Listening is glistening for a moment, then splashes into the tumult of time.  Time is sure to make sure of itself. Besides, time is wallpaper, or an ocean, and either way we’re fish.  And by the way, suffice it to say, the head is far less head than a splash of flesh and limb. Dumb meat. Miraculous meat.  Meet meat for the first time every time you sit.  Meet meat and no longer wish to eat meat- unless you do.  In which case you will.  

Will will not wish for less - unless it does.  Then you can never get enough less. And this will hurt you.  Having had as much less as most want, the child with your name sits bitter in the corner, while, under the weather, your better half is sinking sadly without your help to save her.   Undercover of lover your self does savor the feeling of loosing its self-full fervor.  This will hurt you.


It will hurt you not to see what is trying for you to see it in the box.  It will not be happy with you when you try to clear your mind.  It will not be happy with you and you will notice it or you won’t. It will ask you to look away from its dusty corners which are actually sinew and moist. It will not be satisfied until you’re the same thing again.  It will suck you until it won’t - in which case it will mope around or fizzle out or burst or smolder. All of which can be shapes to see.  All of it is a soft suggestion.  All of it will say something about the origin of something - none of it is type-face.  It is the ping of cold metallic meat.  It is miraculous meat that has a tone of its own in spite of self.  It is mostly meat though, that speaks of hands and feet.  Mostly meat for sex and safety.  The other stuff is true and trite and will make for a great novel someday.



-JV