Monday, December 29, 2014

Confused with a Blessing

Soft clouds confused with a blessing are quickly subsumed by the goddamn cold. Once again I wore the wrong jacket, once again I am walking into and not with the stubborn wind. Either the God of Good Decisions is a prick generally or I pissed in his chapel and went down on his favorite angel and this is how he pays me back. Sweet Christ, why aren't you here with me when I need you most? Yet where the field dips a little to where I first shot at a deer I remember to open my hands and instantly they are filled with starlight. I'm serious: we are basically monkeys with delusions of grandeur and a knack for language. Up at 4 a.m. now out of habit mostly, though for years it passed as a spiritual practice, a kind of slow dance on a threshing floor colored with blood. Mirror balls, prisms, January ice in sunlight and sunlight on the lake in June. You see a pattern here, don't you? On the other hand, the God of Falling in Love seems to think I'm worth a little something something. Why don't you crawl into my warm nest of blankets and introduce me to your freckles? Let's just make out for a long time and call that home, okay? After I'll bring you coffee and a graham cracker. Let me know indeed.

2 comments:

  1. My, my, we're certainly in our skin, this morning.... :)

    Well, me, too. I have a pot of water on the stove near boiling, waiting for a few eucalyptus drops, in the hopes to thin the head fog a little.

    In the meantime, the rain, a flooded kitchen, and well, Monday's infamous melancholy ... just looking for some of that light we cannot see.

    Perhaps, most surprisingly, I'm pretty sure it will find me, despite my half-hearted, stubbornly self-involved yes.

    Thanks, Sean, for a bit of white space for an ego stretch....
    Cheryl

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  2. ha ha! In my skin indeed, like a trapped cat or a camera in a shark's gut.

    And did the fog clear? The kitchen dry?

    We can always count on the rising and falling of phenomena, and sometimes it's a comfort and sometimes it's a pain in the ass, and I guess we can count on that too . . .

    I am lost right now in writers I would cross continents to study with, and my own sentences feel like taffy in Saskatchewan, all of which is a kind of loneliness, so your kind words are deeply appreciated.

    Winter in Virginia is a mystery to me hence the importance of your reports.

    And: thank you thank you thank you

    ~ Sean

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