it never ceases to amaze me how certain music can just
take the living heart right out of you
and throw it on the floor
and turn it into a dusty, bloody stew of longing-
with just some words and a tangled jumble of notes,
it can just come right out
and kill you.
in other news,
please do see jan svankemajer’s little otik,
about a baby made of roots that eats and eats and eats
everything in sight..
and have some green tea-ginger ice cream while you’re at it..
i have a wide expanse of clean floor before me,
i swept it while the cold air blew in-
dancing with the broom in the afternoon light..
can you see me spinning there?
i’m keeping my secrets to myself
i’ll take it dancing in sock feet on the slippery wood parquet
i’ll drink my tea in the rocking chair in the setting sun,
and think about my other life.