Like Everything Ever Done
Like everything ever done, this started with email. Written with my hands held close to my stomach, my thumbs popping the letters one by one, I override the device’s choices, confirming that I am the one talking here. Passive-slash-actionable language in the year of the protest. I am the one who knows where the punctuation goes but appreciate all your help with the spelling. A quiet mouse scittering out from the hole in the kitchen wall for a crumb, looking up with intention. I email myself to record my mind, I email others so that my mind has a place to be. The thicket of ferns move with the breeze. This is where you arrive. You can email me at “my name at gmail” or find me on fb if that’s easier.
Borrowing a quote from another, the life-advice, identification of the start, the requirements, and the date marked on the calendar, the rush forward. the silver stick is slick, the material cool, the line it makes drags on and on, to be used for its purpose and any others that haven’t even been imagined yet. ALUMINUM, MICA, CRYSTAL, GLASS, COPPER (not counting the iron in your blood, or the minerals in the air)
Let’s take a moment now, not for a deep breath, but something deeper, a fresh mind. Your mind needs to be fresh. In a new tab in a soft chair we count the pages:
soft and small and looking right into the lens.
white and black and just like its twin, each mirror cut to the same dimensions.
twelve of them lined up together, eating
that baby voice that no baby has ever spoken in is the national language
there’s a charity on