Self and reality. Symbol and language. Myth and image. Memory and consciousness.
Dream and unreality: locus communis.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Through winter-wet grass—

Between allergies and shifting weather patterns a feeling of paralysis emerges. Last night’s storm left the trees coated with thin layers of ice. Delaying traffic for a few hours longer than normal. For most of the day I procrastinated successfully waiting for Brendan to arrive home. And then half prepared a new project for school. A numb disregard settles within.
78/ Through winter-wet grass, Pan slips into feline bones, crooked shadow and curling tail, crescent eyes following the path of a boat-shaped moon, a low riding cradle lingering along the cusp of twilight, lowering over rooftops and a diminishing tree line— the blue blur along the neighborhood’s horizon.

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