off work @ four-forty five was it? dreams swimming through a war zone: hiding under the edge, under the tarp draped over the framework: tubing, aluminum? holding on as the thing moves over water, pulling me along, away. back on land i’d been wandering through overwhelming devastation & offering advice on letting go. i think it might have been carol burnett swinging a huge plank at the crumbling columns. until they fell. many things, many many crumbling things, some of them still smoldering. is smoldering the word? glowing embers everywhere & so forth. it seems thousands of years were destroyed here just yesterday, the atmosphere is still thick with history, or the ashes of it at least.
there is no memory of abandoning land, just the afterimage of the decision. there are conflicts here too, it’s why i’m hiding. i string a makeshift hammock underneath the tarp draped over the framework of the tubular structure of whatever it is i’ve chosen here, completely at peace in this terribly precarious place. as the water glides by below, i drift off to sleep.
& up at nine. failed to refrain from dawdling over these keys while this fell out, losing a little of the insane virtue of the whole nineteen hour workday in the process. which was actually only sixteen what with the nap & all.
& now nearly noon, & still here at these keys & still in what passes for pajamas.