Wednesday, August 11, 2004


"to walk is to vegetate. to stroll is divine" --balzac (kind of...)

on k street under my favorite amber lamp (half plum tree) at the house of the benevolent-eyed retriever, lewis, whose owner i don't know, said hound making my acquaintance solo: pickle glyphs on the pavement. the impossibly elongated race created with sidewalk chalk by persons unkown. the clock set in motion, abandoned, view of things. a dog the size of a hereford bull, the dimensions of a baguette. cocktail olive nose. the far leg raised above the shoulder, ironed. sprightly firecracker toes. eohippus. some transparent accretion, edges meeting and subsumed. here i left off. there you begin. i love you. declarations floating, unhinged. the fingers laced. the lacy composition. i can see through you. the lines from the grass lot to the center are one being (man/woman?). the ever-faithful, ever-loyal, merging. wo/man and his/her best friend. a sunny balloon cluster, a crossword crossing. inept legs and a barrel body is most of us. a pinpoint of warm light and a deep dark, wine dark (vinegar-dark?) surround. some bright eyes manacled to my ridiculous wrist.

sister, lola, willie and i went strolling. one corner smelled of fermented apples. then leather. then my uncle. i said, "what's that smell? smells like ----, -----, and -----." and she said, "uncle--- smells like fermented apples and leather?" and i said, "shut up. it was a progression."

tonight the fire station was producing disco smoke. only i don't believe they were getting down. i think it was a drill. but i didn't see anybody...err...drilling. should i be concerned? sister suggested they were trying a ninja device--- the concealed, the undetected. i'm not sure how this is applicable. quick! there's a fire! hide! hide! . (squeals!). a pajama party game for times of crisis. or, let's impress the villagers. behold! i make smoke without flames! i don't really know. i'm probably not alone there.



Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home