June 29, 2009
Stream of Consciousness While Watering
Rain? Too hot to depend on it–I’ll just… crape myrtle blossoms falling, pink light around them as they go… Mia’s face helping, all absent, showing the tiny snails on her palm, wanting to keep everything… white oleander that lady asked to take a cutting from… lantana–”Ham & Eggs” Mama called the umbels of mixed yellow and pale red… garbage truck (wave), that man who sometimes eats his lunch in the high cab, under that tree… handed him cucumbers once over the wood fence he can see over from the alley; his shirt pale green, his smile… myrtle blossoms falling from this one too… samurai looking up beneath a cherry tree, beside that white river of a blade… ” to go there / and fall into those flowers / and sink into the marsh near them”… anole! runs in trickles along the fence top; bubblegum, Flannery said–only two?–when the green lizzard showed his pink dewlap… Rain? Yes; all this for nothing; but extra won’t hurt–102 yesterday… Cindy come home! “The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead….”
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so beautiful, Daryl. your own river-merchant’s wife.
i’m picturing a scene from David Byrne’s True Stories
Daryl, these words are bouncing around inside of me in the most beautiful way. Perhaps holding more meaning because of the heat here in Crete just now.
Thank you.