or the completeness of birds
still long for
their shocking whole
The loved are still
they are so far from
what we can
the human strain
the sloppiness of cats
Just give me birds
I've decided to lead with tonight's poem. These pieces are, after all, my main reason for blogging. At least I think they are. So it might be wise to put the poem first.
So, this piece is the opening one for the poem cycle that I think of as, our book of birds. And, from tonight on, I hope to present the cycle pieces in order. The cycle is complete. That is to say I've written all of it that I'm going to, I think, but I lived with it for so long, through such a difficult and even mythic phase of my life, that it feels good to be sharing it, piece by piece, with...well, with you.
Tonight, I'm very tired and I don't think that I can say much else. It's been a wonderful day. My friend Adam drove Lulu and me to Ocean Beach and we walked along the water. It was a long drive today - Saturday on the Bay Bridge, and I kept remarking on how long it was, which of course made it longer. But we made it and it was worth it. The Pacific Ocean is still there! Honest! Even though I haven't been over to keep an eye on it for, I don't know, months. It's still there and it still comes right up to the beach! Imagine my delight!
Adam claims that he swam in this ocean when he was a child. On a regular basis. Without a wet suit! So he says. Repeatedly! I would like to say that he's a known liar, since that would explain his behavior. But he's not. Not at all. So how to understand such a thing? I just don't know. Oh, sweet mysteries of life.
I must sleep. I am already sleeping and the dreams are getting mixed up with...whatever this purports to be. The Xeloda is slowly seeping out of my system and I must sleep.
You sleep well too.