Follow by Email

About Me (Categories at the bottom of the page!)

Monday, February 25, 2013

Today I wrote Facebook then deleted and copied here


            I wrote this where I am while ADHD. in the quiet andt the thread died and I copied and deleted it. I deleted everything I wrote to people in Nashville and the UK and here. It isn't great. It is just supposed to be where I live. I don't know what you mean . I am afraid I leave the page too barren because I know what happens, but I skip and people get confused. Who knows. This A.M. I wrote:

            It is sunny today.

            It is always sunny.

           It is warm (it is warm and white and never sweet) and the sky is infinite blue. Later it will burn white. At lunch, with only a few minutes in the sun, the young Norwegians shoulder skin began to splotch redden in preparation for the burn.
            There is a reason people don’t coming here in the summer. The sun is all things here for 35 hours a day it is white hot and burns. It burns the skin (it burns young Norwegian bare-shouldered actresses), it burns the burnt leaves on burnt plants. It burns the sandstone rock and scars them.
      
            My fountain pressed up tightly among a burgeoning explosion of bottlebrush bloom, gurgles and falls over my cheerful stone frog.

            At the top tier of the fountain, a hummingbird pauses. Gone. A hummingbird pauses.

            Gone

            And the house creaks. The earth shivers here every few moments (like a baby dreaming, like a junkie waiting for a fix and the dealer to arrive) and the house creaks. Art is velcro'd to the wall and most things are earthquake glued to keep them steady and safe and mine when it comes.       
It will come.
            We wait here, in the desert, at the base of the infinite blue, our necks ache from looking upwards at the blue. We get lost in the blue while our legs wait to crumble when it comes.

It will come someday.

            They tell us, like Jesus and with anger this time, it will come.... OK I hate to type with my thumbs. I live in La Quinta, CA., in a cove surrounded by barren piles of rock, piled high to make playgrounds for the mountain goats (they are endangered, you know and I know why) that I watch effortlessly climb along the ridge, looking to one side to see our little casitas huddled in the cove and the other side miles of tumbled rock playgrounds.

            The hummingbird is back and will pause on the top tier of the fountain.

            No wind today and our post office is good and always filled with elderly. They totter. They totter to line and complain that there is a line and they hate taxes and they hate lines.

            I have been most places. Portland (a bunch.. its cool)...KC..(Dad is old time and he is old there. A KU Jay Hawk Rock! Chalk! Independence, Mo)...I worked for years (still do I guess) for a company in Newtown Square PA.. and I have travelled as well, taught at, slept at and eaten meals almost everywhere else. My last contract was 6-7 months at the USDA in D.C. and Nawlins. Good thing I almost died because workin and eatin and stayin in a big fancy in the Big Easy woulda kilt me sooner rather than later. And D.C. would drive me mad and I am mad!