The sermon for May. 27, 2004 is: everything solid melts into air
7:43 a.m.
Nicola spins the globe approximating the horses of the sun plowing their starry groove from their daily bath to the dawn. She's twenty-three, my Nicola, and knows nothing of mythology and even less of me. Yet when she moves her rosy fingers over the planet she holds, the horses of my heart break wild and roll again and again, sliding like stampede, a sea.
Nicola spins the globe to see unknown archipelagos blur into her clasp, rivers tamed by her touch, mountains smoothed by her calm. Take all my maps to the countries I possess, the places that I love, the labyrinth and thread that unwound will take Nicola unfailingly to where I'm bound, monstrous, ungainly, minotaur. My Nicola (surprise!) is uninterested in my world. Wholly extraterrestial: another planet. Another girl.
the Funny Show
agriculture poem
my life in the ghost of Bush
time-lapsed (part 1)
unreconciled
Images are taken without permission from the fine and trusting folks at Folk Arts of Poland; please purchase something from them. Background music stolen without permission from Epitonic, Basta Music, and just about everywhere else my unscrupulous hands could grab something. No rights reserved.