Another one of those eerily familiar days in Southern California... a slight breeze from the west. The sky bright, but not too loud. The signals start to come in clearly, like the hand of a giant navigator softly tuning an old bedside clock radio. A distant analog hum, that predicates truthfulness, the future, and the past. The minds eye clears like a gentle bathtub massage, a cloth wiping suds from an old man's back. Pathways, telephone lines, radars speak, inertia blasted, clairvoyant touch, muses speak, diamonds in the rough come loose and speak, shining brightly, hovering to a quiver, green on gold, lucid teeth, nominal nomenclature, habits we form, diamonds we share, thoughts I never knew I had. Peaceful, now. She's coming.
Fabled women, faded glories. Things I thought I had and lost. Places I went and saw that I didn't have a place. Names I tried to tie to something I thought I was. Something I had to have. If you rest you'll see your shadow pray. And sometimes when I'm alone I like to think of myself as a child again but just grown bigger in the world. I try to make soft movements and play with my hair. I eat only what I feel like, and trail off all my sentences with words that sound good to the ear. Touch your face, I said. Softly she spoke, my dream departing the naked chatter arrived, and tacitly I conformed to some kind of rigor.
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