01/27/19 the magazine i’ve been reading suggests that i choose between: option 1. cyclical chiral accretion, contraction, cohesion. option 2. entanglement, error-correcting code. option 3. i don’t suppose i could ever really know. if my mother hadn’t had four children, she’s always said that she would’ve liked to have become an astronomer. my father’s guitars, my mother’s love of the stars, telescopes and cups of tea. and then, somewhere in the middle, there’s me. kansas city’s auyon mukharji is singing silk and sticky spun sugar, clay and cast iron. a gale blows over, and then breaks, the birdfeeder, slams heavy wooden doors shut, lessens for a little while and then strengthens again. somewhat similarly, my thoughts go speeding. sunday morning superluminality, but i did have birthday cake for breakfast. victoria sponge, two iced and caffeinated coffees, clementine juice. Advertisements
a capiz moon retires its light to a softening silver sea of first fog, and i am here listening to the sound of boiling water being poured through the little teapot that i’ll set in place next to the candle on my bedside table. lavender, valerian. somewhere north, this morning, there’ll be sunshine yellow guiding gorse petals glittering with frost. and, somewhere further, hopefully, there’s mycena luxaeterna, or eternal light, illuminating a very dark and hidden patch of some faraway forest, to be seen by noone. somewhere else, a family i know will be lacing up their already muddy boots, jumping in the car, dogs in the back, flasks-in-hand, they’ll be heading to dartmoor, i’ve been thinking about down tor, or else, to the beach. and in california, the southbound coastal starlight will have just reached los angeles, city of dreams, where reality and fantasy melt into one another in the heat.