Morning Trip (71)

When the Sky Clears
“The drop grows happy by losing itself in the river.
A pain when beyond human range becomes something else.

One man’s heart died when he insisted on treating his own problems.
Sometimes people solve jute knots by rubbing them on rocks.

Since I am weak, I sigh instead of weeping.
My experience tells me that water can change and become air.

The sky abruptly clears following thick clouds and heavy rain.
The clouds, recognizing separation, cried and vanished into non-existence.

We make the back of the mirror green in order to see our faces.
Sometimes nature makes the front of the mirror green as well.

We love seeing the beauty of poppies and lilies.
When the eyes lose themselves in the colors, they are seeing at last.”
– Ghalib
translated by Robert Bly

Everything Beautiful Began After

“You remember what George said once about language, about words and sentences–like Pompei, a world intact, but abandoned. You scramble down the words like ropes, he said. You dangle from sentences. You drop from letters into pools of what happened.

Language is like drinking from one’s own reflection in still water. We only take from it what we are at that time.”
–Simon Van Booy

“Like the armies that once landed here in wooden ships, you had been prepared to invade George’s world with the endless narrative of journey.

But when you feel the lines of words poised and ready to fall in breathlike blows from you[sic] mouth, you feel only the soothing emptiness of this hot island, this ‘hollow ball of fire.’ and the words age in your mouth and turn to crumbs and then ash.

Perhaps in dreams these words will come to life again–once they are splashed with sleep.”
–Simon Van Booy

“Your life now is the appreciation of all that is good–all that is worth living for. And you embrace life and its inevitable end like hands joined in prayer.

Your stillness is no longer something to be admired–the pain of severance. A scar where something used to be.

To love again, you must not discard what has happened to you, but take from it the strength you’ll need to carry on.”
–Simon Van Booy

“Sometimes it’s all he thinks about.
But he doesn’t stop walking anymore.
He doesn’t stop to look around.
He keeps going.
He can feel the weight of their lives in a single step forward.
And he is enchanted by the beauty of small things: hot coffee, wind throught an open window, the tapping of rain, a passing bicycle, the desolation of snow on a winter’s day.”
–Simon Van Booy

I Can See Your Tracks

“Oh I can see your tracks
But I won’t follow them
I’ll just hope for rain
Or some kind of crazy wind
To erase them
And chase them into oblivion

Oh I can smell the smoke
From your fire, babe
But I’ll leave you alone
And sleep in this lonely cave
And pray for
A storm to scrub this dirt away

Oh I can hear the snakes
Creeping cross the scene
I’m quaking in my boots
But you won’t hear me scream
You’re half way
Down to New Orleans
You’re half way
Down to New Orleans”

Morning Trip (70) A Light…was there dark?

“There is a vitality, a life force,
a quickening that is translated through you into action,
and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique.
If you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost.
The world will not have it.

It is not your business to determine how good it is;
nor how valuable it is; nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.

You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.
You merely have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you.
Keep the channel open.

No artist is pleased . . .
There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction;
a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”
– Martha Graham

Computer Funeral Imminent


I have the computer, it DID have a virus.
Then, I said what about that fan issue…and he said what fan issue, and then he said I don’t hear a fan, that’s not good. (Guy who worked on it left for medical appt.)
off came the side of the puter and he said yup fan bad
and then I heard those bad phewwwwwwwwwwww sounds from owner.

Very close to the sounds a mechanic will make when he thinks a job is done and then checks one more thing ….

Some tiny can looking and highly important things on my motherboard are leaking and …

I’m sad. I haven’t funds for another computer. This is my lifeline and my link to sanity. It’s the only place on earth that I can be who I am or lie to myself and if anyone has anything to say about it, it’s me. (sometimes friends will holler out a whooooooooooooooooa woman what do ya think yer doin’)

I have tried all day to find a way to resolve my whiny ingratitude. I thought of the prize that brought the computer. I thought of the grace of eleven years of having it and besides virus and one deceased hard drive, it has served me valiantly. Without it, I do not know if I would have been able to get what is inside, to the outside. I’m petrified.

The one who is not petrified is laughing like santa. It says IMAGINE if you had NOT had the virus alllllllllllllll of your writing and allllllllllllllll of your photography would just have exited the building. YOU have a chance to get it all backed up!! What a gift. (then that part wandered a bit and wished it would snow, just once–then apologized and told me not to eat the corn chips and to keep reading.

I looked outside. It took three hours for my snow wish to arrive. Maybe there is yet a miracle for me to discover hidden within the broken computer. We shall see!