fountain,
I have lived in a national forest.
wild turkeys, water, dread.
Blogging
Do I like blogging?
Delhi
Do I like India?
Being alive.
to create a posthumous archive.
For whom?
For young writers ?
50 years from now.
Thelonious
coloring
about war
I write
a final project
Another project
make something functional and nutritious;
saag paneer
Some part of my body wants …
to write
To write about
bodies
institutions
Writing
Time
To not write for stories
But for language
For To not hate it
it feels impossible today
windowsill.
Let's pretend
Pretend we are writing
my sister is washing one of her three dogs in the other room
schooling
She would have been a great dog groomer
Thelonious and his bass on the street
Running from what was coming
Not like Touissaint, sitting
complexities
of India,
which ended confused, confused.
my sister
And los Angeles
I see angels, so many of them
Lost
This means that I am writing this
One of her dogs just leapt up and is sitting next to me on the couch
She won’t stay long - I long for her to stay
Longer
What makes her restless?
And cats?
Always moving on
the day’s pale air
How much I would like to have a velvet chair , a writing chair , a chair to sit in while writing
a gift is unimaginable
The dog’s listening for my sister outside in the garage ….
And now she’s back up, standing at the door
How long is her moment? Does she feel time?
She sighed. Just now.
She
The pug is snoring and twelve
The air purifier whirs
This all happened as I wrote
ownership
And the door opens
or belonging
Or place. Or time.
We talk about the past
When daddy would ball up his fists and punch the girls becoming women
And mother
And kicked my brother in the balls becoming man
How to start writing?
still haunted
I love the word Autumn
For autumn
Not fall.
In India intensely I felt the polluted present rage
Breath work made fire to remove the o
Himalaya is not the oldest
But tectonic is the same
quakes and aftershocks and second waves
One explodes randomly
The other is a constant drip to shatter
I saw the village.
I am many
My sister tells me of heroic moments and then I realize
She sees deeper than any poet I’ve ever read and deeper than
garden brick wall mango
Stars.
The letter V.
stroking inside my sleep
I swung the door open
And behind the toilet in rishikesh was a snake trying to get away from my eyes
My sister has a thing with snakes
She once found the skins - one snake eating another snake
Since then I know Lord Shiva and His Nandi bull
obeisance to Retrograde
And right now.
I adapt to Western civilization by focusing on apertures,
Letting light in
darkness
giving up. give up.
I wish I could learn more
My sister sometimes glances and gazes
extraordinary
She is much more than anything I
Like turquoise
Like gold.
Ban is beautiful
Sometimes I hear stories of her ex-boyfriend and I want to wretch. I can’t imagine what excuses they used to be disturbed
And now
Now
I feel like this writing has gone really well.
It’s 5:36p.m.