17.06.08
we ride a horse.
we approach a lump or a log and she has to jump.
she rears up on her hind legs and skids to a stop.
you fly over her head tumble, head down, legs up.
my legs grip her sides as she balloons her stomach to stretch the straps of the saddle tight around her keeping me upright
people run towards us to help you.
are you ok? are you all right?
because your crisis is so grave, so here and now, we ignore all the other flashes of light and smoke and ash. we cannot see the warning signals.
in the distance you imagine yourself a circus performer standing on a dolphin’s back, hand in the air, waves pushing below to give you a wild ride.
16.06.08
we stand face to face, chest to chest. you are taller, but I stand my ground. I look up to you. you try to look down on me - but you cannot manage it. in fact when I really consider it, I’m bigger and stronger but you have more will. you make yourself big you puff up your chest. you pull your arms back. you stand on a step.
we have an audience.
witnesses. they look on distracted, non committal.
the ground beneath us looks solid, but beneath the surface if you look carefully you can see the fault lines. you can see that it will soon crumble. and where will we be then.
can we fly
can we float
can we forget
can we reach out and up
and still keep our feet steady
10.06.08
the genie has left the bottle.
she is fizzy and light bubbles in the air. her face is quiet and calm. she wears a hat with feathers at the top. she looks like she will spin and spin and spin for us, arms stretched out and legs pointed.
09.06.08
we are not only underwater but at the the very bottom of the sea. we are very small at the bottom of the sea. you sit with your back against a long tall coral pushing up towards the top the ceiling of water held down heavy by the sky. you bring your knees to your chest and wrap your hands around thighs and fingers clasp on top of kneecaps. me I’m across from you, slouching against a rock. I can’t get comfortable really and sometimes I turn upsidedown so my feet are higher than my heart draping over the rock and I can look up and pretend the ripples above are stars or planets instead of water, water and more water.
behind you a giant slumps around walking lazy and languid like some cool cat from the 1970s. his giant feet thunder and small creatures scramble to get out of the way. we are glad we are on the other side of things. he has a monster friend who is closer to his size than any other creature in the sea, so they have decided not to lay their quarrels aside and stick together. maybe they are on their way to a movie or something -- they seem more casual than angry. we small things at the bottom of the sea take this as a good thing. we can sit calmly for some time, just shoot the shit and not worry about big monsters and giants throwing fists at one another making our lives misery.
07.06.08
the people here live in trees. they cook, the eat, they play -- they do everything in the trees. they live at the edge of the moon and the earth crumbling. but they are long and tall and elegant and move so slowly that for them there are no real catastrophes.
05.06.08
in my armored robe I pretend to be a samarai and I walk
I walk away
but as my robe is heavy with scalloped metal like shells and waves I move so slowly
each step a century to complete like a rock or a mountain
I seems solid standing
still here.
just my head turns away from your theatrics
03.06.08
it’s a comet swirling capturing stars and dust
the comet says something new.
she says, restart.
she says - take this step and another - you stick around long enough it can happen to you too. to be as old as a star, a flash of light
then poof.
her tail is feathery
her center delicate a spot you can put your finger on
raging and spinning
then open sky
look
right there
see it.
