Into crosshatch, into fragrance, ghastly presence, out there with my little idea, rounding the block, past the playground, and I don’t know if it’s possible to write the thing, and likely it’s not, likely I’m concocting architecture for use up the road, at best. To be out and seen while doing this is something I’ve had to train myself to withstand. Withstand the verb, ever. The ones taking chainsaws to all the lode-bearing beams. The ones yelling out the truck windows. The ones with their obliterating implements. I’ve had to stoop, had to avert to exist in this made world, and I’m a little twisted up as a result. There are dogs around the neighbourhood who spend their lives in cages, never leave the yard, noses pressed to living room windows. The tree limbs get picked up, the sweepers go by, the spray deck gets turned on for the summer. Emergency exists together with the day-to-day, and with beauty. And the river says much more about this than I can write, though still I can only barely read the language.
Public thinking ❤️
With stand, upstanding!