today we went up to tater knob fire tower to catch the sunset, after being dumb and smooth under the sun, stilled by the reflection of the rays of afternoon upon the surface of clear creek lake. i was coming down and crying and watching the red, the blazing final score of subnlight leaking out of the fabric of the sky.
it's spring again. leaves are filling out, hills again claim their foliage. i saw a stand of irises among the dead leaves while i was looking for a tree to piss behind. coy cluster of curled purple-blue petals. we passed a group of amish boys with fishing rods and kayaks making their way down clear creek road.
i feel like i have so much still to say. i fear if i dont get this out then my memories will fade with the relentless and corrosive passing of time. the force that weathers the faces of rock, that carves the licking river valley. the force that draws people to one another, then sours a bond.
i want to run away
i want to see a waterfall crash down upon broken boulders, slick & wet at the base. want to mount a boulder and dance wildly alone in the early morn light. i want to be made love to on the banks of the cumberland. i want to swell with the fruit of this earth. i want to weep because how will i ever get to know all my fellow forms of life, because the privilege of knowing about each being is so beyond me.
screaming and crying on a precipice before a gulch. looking to orions belt for guidance. finding nestled in that place where i think only static, interstate din, bird shit.
the joy of finding a flower, a friend, by your foot in the woods, growing from a bed of detritus, shards of autumn-crisped leaves and cicada shells and copperhead skins and sloughed-off bark, life departed n decayed. a friend, something familiar. The vast extended family of life upon this earth
life from trash, from the refuse of growth. refuse not wasted, but become a home. an incubator for new life. life in the underbelly. life where a snout prods, when the owner's attention is rapt at a dying sun. the way the final colors of a day stretch out over these hills.
they are thrumming with life, the frantic call of insects, with animals torn from their dens running to-and-fro, with swollen creeks rushing to collect in rivers, in ponds, and with the grace of time, the sea
a bluegill haunts my boyfriend. its scaled skin golden in the afternoon light. he fished and pebbles embedded in my skin as i stretched upon the rocky beach, occupying myself with an absence of thought.
- from sometime last april
