IX. The Necessity of Bricks Nov 10, 2018

my house is three rooms in the middle of a forest:

1) the mud room, the barrier
where shoes and boots and jackets are kept
and cold and hot air and leaves and dirt and bugs stop at the first interior door
and the little light is always on
even when i am home
during the day

2) the kitchen, the blood
where calories and flavors are kept
the surplus of civilization from which i skim
to keep my wick alight

3) the bedroom, the sanctum
where the computers and wires and books
tea, trinkets, clothing; where my heart lives
and from where i project my soul, as much as i do
lenses scattered about, optical couplers
dreams and dreamers, assembled and in pieces
a messy machine of me whose sense organs are copper wires
whose lungs are a yoga mat, whose memories are disk drives

some day i hope you find me here
but likely i will not hear you:
take off my glasses from behind
brush your lips against my earlobe

some day i hope to shine very bright
but for now i polish, for there is so much to be done
and although i have no time to waste
i get sad like anyone
and it slows me down

Shuffle, replace, or draw a card.


Linked from: VIII. The Moon

Links to: I. The Revelation of Fabrics, VIII. The Moon, We don't have time. Not like they do., an essay for humans, every ending is a new beginning, full moon shine down on me, light and time, stone monuments in the far depth, the lake around which are a thousand tiny fires, you can't start a fire without a spark