Mowing down the verge of the horizon lines to be crossed and marked with an X, treks to another rising but not falling.
I want to drown out some misery and rebirth, rehearsals are over forever.
I walk along the path.
In my dreams I saw dinner at some foreign table, in the middle of a cramped huddle. I forgot to tip the waiter. In the water, the colors of yesterday faded to a gloss. Mostly, I wasted away to the brink of my bones, a trading type of insanity at last. The glass was broken, but filled with sand.
My hands are sore from holding on too tight, so now it is time to let go.
I drank acorn mush yesterday. It tasted like the wind, and I imagined the years blowing softly as I looked out onto the trees and hills beyond the table. It was a hot day, and the people around me talked happily about life and death and all the things that make the days go by. A young man asked me as he passed, “were you playing with a poi ball?” I nodded. I saw him a few years ago the last time I went to the Patwin village. Next to the table was the pit where the tribal meeting house used to stand, long since burned and dismantled. The dust made me think of those dazed existence memories, settled into the dying odor of new growth. People talked story and I listened. It was one of those ways when I couldn’t really find the words in my mouth. My shark’s teeth and bare feet spoke for me.
Why do I fly? Why do I always wake in the shared stories of a thousand years? I sometimes wonder if my feet will ever feel the sea again. For now I swim in my imagination as it sets alight to the glowing embers which were just about to die. I cry, but I never feel the tears dripping from my chin. The story is sad but always the same.
I ate fry-bread, and then some rabbit. I had never eaten rabbit before. I saw a rabbit today at the park. Some Mexican children had brought it with them. It was strange to see them slip it down the slide, and cuddle it as they ran about chasing each other.
As I shift and change my body grows into a large mass of water, and I immerse myself into the cooling; I need to because the heat has torched my skin and I no longer recognize myself.
Rising from the ashes I glow with new feathers, and begin to remember how to sing love songs again.
Serenade me. I need to hear my heart beat in the chasm of my consciousness.