I go to a martial arts class in an unfamiliar city. When no one is watching, the teacher tests the muscles in my arms and legs. He says, "You're stronger than people think you are, though still not very strong. But I think you're angry enough that you could kill a man nonetheless."
I have to stand outside a bathroom door and listen to the person inside vomiting. I realize it's me, several years ago.
Morning, sometime in the future. My love and I are in bed with sleepiness still on us, and she is telling me the dreams she had during the night.
tell me how you learned to touch a body without
believing you were touching a soul
take what you tell me and trace your steps
backwards until we find ourselves somewhere
better resembling sense
and sustainability — backwards
all the way until you can
breathe and feel yourself
Gradually. I don't know quite what, but it's not a place that has been feeling like home for the words and photos of my days, these days.
I'm going to experiment a little to see what needs to change. Perhaps a fresh template, a a fresh name, perhaps a fresh blog without these archives. Perhaps it's blogging itself that doesn't feel right anymore, or perhaps it's just that I'm making myself take it too seriously.
For now I am going to turn off comments and see how that goes, because the idea felt good when it occurred to me.
You are always welcome, of course, to contact me via any of the channels listed here.
1. Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, by Jeanette Winterson
2. The Book of Perceptions, by Truong Tran (poems) and Chung H. Chuong (photos)
3. Once: Poems, by Meghan O'Rourke
4. True Love: A Practice for Awakening the Heart, by Thich Nhat Hanh (reread)
5. The Book of Light, by Lucille Clifton
295/365. The Great Highway closed. Biking.
297/365. Walking home from the train from my love's, my neighborhood swathed in fog, I luminously happy.
300/365. Little sister on storage Saturday.
301/365. Squashed Remy.