I whispered into me, into my belly button. I wished for peace, for goodwill, for fortune and fame. I missed the heart of me. I knelt upon two knees, one meant to carry me, one meant to remind me. I knelt and sang into wafting darkness.
I do not have a beautiful voice. It’s hard and raspy, the vibrato unsteady, the tone slightly flat. That’s the way I sing when I sing a song about anything, especially me.
Amber and amethyst. Burnt umber is one of the colors of me…just one, because I really have three.
And magazines pile to the right and the left and I think they just took that check and forgot the rest. Haven’t heard hide nor hair, and I even sent an SASE. I wonder if I care…
Tip-toes.
And I wanted to denude myself of hair. I wanted to shave it all off, every strand. I felt like a rebirth called for that. I did it from the neck down. It’s all grown back now. I want to do it again but I’m waiting until I’m forty-three.
Coffee ached in the bottom of my mug. And for some reason that made me think of the corn silk and the corn husks. I wonder what Sanna’s up to now. Last I heard she was covered in ceremonial mud with a clean streak running between the two most important chakras. How I so understood the hand slipping through her front and tickling the grass beneath her back!
I read something just two minutes ago. I could tell you what it said, but I don’t know that there’s any relevence here.
Lessons like Saturday, easy with the way of a breezy rain. I watched it bleed down the window pane. Patterns of tea leaves the drops made.
(February 6, 2008)
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