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At 2:42 or so a.m., I'm sitting in my kitchen, reading the Utne Reader looking for interestingly alternative websites, jotting down pithy sayings, just doing my thing, really... thinking about enthnogenic plants, Tarot cards, sex w/Josh... The broken Headless Horseman action figure looms over me in a disgruntled manner. All my other little computer-desk gargoyles & guardians surround me w/their anthropomorphized love & attention. My own oddball audience, fully interested in anything I'm doing down here. Not that I'm doing anything, mind you, but whatever I may do will have their full, undivided attention for sure.
Anyway, I'm also enjoying the rare stillness. No ghost activity. The hum of my computer, clicking of fingers on keyboard, the shuffle of pages in the magazine, the scritchy noise of pen on paper. I don't rely on my eyes much to tell me all is well in my world, it's always a matter of my ears. The slap of my bare bear-feet on the tile floor in the kitchen as I get my leftover liver & onions or a ruby-red glass for water. Seeing Ed laying in his water dish, probably blowing bubbles as I type... You know it's quiet & still when the loudest thing you've heard in 2 hrs. is a high-pitched squeaky snake-fart. The TV's been off for awhile, but it randomly crackles every now & again. Or creaks. Makes some odd electronic noise, why I have no idea.
My feet are cold, but the rest of me is wrapped in black silken luxury... it's all black & deep red roses w/me lately. Drinking whiskey again, for the first time in a long while. I don't remember it tasting quite so strong, or being quite so smooth. A part of my feelings are hurt because a certain male never bothers to call or email me anymore. Oh well. I think I hurt his feelings, again. He leaves himself open & the temptation proves too much.
I saw beautiful artwork on line tonight. Gorgeous colors. One was a painting of a woodpecker stealing fire, another of two cranes dancing in a sunset-fire lake. A white buffalo, a great bear. Subjects I can understand & feel inside me, roaming around. Archetypes, those symbols from deep elder forests, images I need to complete my own reality, to steal some words from a poet-thief.
Anyway, in this quiet stillness, I heard, off in the distance, a long, low train-whistle.
Anyway, I'm also enjoying the rare stillness. No ghost activity. The hum of my computer, clicking of fingers on keyboard, the shuffle of pages in the magazine, the scritchy noise of pen on paper. I don't rely on my eyes much to tell me all is well in my world, it's always a matter of my ears. The slap of my bare bear-feet on the tile floor in the kitchen as I get my leftover liver & onions or a ruby-red glass for water. Seeing Ed laying in his water dish, probably blowing bubbles as I type... You know it's quiet & still when the loudest thing you've heard in 2 hrs. is a high-pitched squeaky snake-fart. The TV's been off for awhile, but it randomly crackles every now & again. Or creaks. Makes some odd electronic noise, why I have no idea.
My feet are cold, but the rest of me is wrapped in black silken luxury... it's all black & deep red roses w/me lately. Drinking whiskey again, for the first time in a long while. I don't remember it tasting quite so strong, or being quite so smooth. A part of my feelings are hurt because a certain male never bothers to call or email me anymore. Oh well. I think I hurt his feelings, again. He leaves himself open & the temptation proves too much.
I saw beautiful artwork on line tonight. Gorgeous colors. One was a painting of a woodpecker stealing fire, another of two cranes dancing in a sunset-fire lake. A white buffalo, a great bear. Subjects I can understand & feel inside me, roaming around. Archetypes, those symbols from deep elder forests, images I need to complete my own reality, to steal some words from a poet-thief.
Anyway, in this quiet stillness, I heard, off in the distance, a long, low train-whistle.
