WATER FLOWING UNDERGROUND

This morning I have that William Stafford poem, A Ritual to Read to Each Other circling the brain of my drain ... or is that vice versa? Mostly the last line,  the darkness around us is deep. Deep, vast, boundless, bottomless, abyssal, abysmal.

Intercut with that is the Talking Heads song, Once in A Lifetime,

You may ask yourself, "Am I right? Am I wrong?"

You may say to yourself, "God, what have I done?"

Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down.

Letting the days go by, water flowing underground.

Into the blue again, after the money's gone.

(David is so young!) Oh and then there is the incessant back-up signal of the steamroller on the street. And what is that to my internal emotional cacophony, pre-coffee? 

A few minutes later ...

Cosmo, not in Paris, but cosmpolitan nonetheless.

Now with that steaming cup and some whole grain hot cereal, I feel a skoesh better. Is it all about nourishment? Comfort? Now, aren't those the questions.

A great thing about dreams is that you can hang out in other places. I was living in Paris last night, being all glad that I had moved there, thinking back on the days when I didn't live there. Well, that was before the back-up beeper started going off. 

A very dear friend is having an emergency colonoscopy today because of bleeding. Deep sigh. 

Water dissolving, and water removing ...

Hard to know what to make of it. Do the rest of you wake up and wonder why and then how you are going to get through and then why again?

Yesterday was dark and cruel in any number of ways. Somehow it seemed that all spirit everywhere was being crushed. We are all old cars scrunched and pounded in an auto yard. A heavy, flattened package of humanity being swung around by a crazy magnet and about to be dropped, unceremoniously, to rust in a heap.

Much later.

But none of us are Andrew Breitbart. How unnerving was that?

So, more on this topic, but I wanted to let you know that I don't believe my electricity will be turned off. I came to some difficult but do-able terms with ConEd.

I can't thank you enough. But, I am going to try some more. Just not tonight. I am grateful to those who perceived an appeal or were moved to reach out to help me. I am humbled, grateful, and profoundly overwhelmed.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark


Not fooling. You're not fooling me, either.