書き直したシ

Homage

lion spirits
made red heaven
color of haste

a tiny glow
spills, grows
in pine needles

in older years it’s the same.

Two Beers with Dominic

Meet at station. Talk on train. Appear outside another station. Complain about snow falling. Go underground. Catch eyes with an older woman. Drink two beers. Pee. Climb up the stairs. Complain there are no cute girls. Mumble at McDonalds. Finish all of a pork sandwich and part of Dominic's Teriyaki sandwich. Stand outside. Wait for the cigarrette to burn all the way. Back on the train to talk about Japanese women, What do they want? Exit train. Lucy taps my shoulder. Domonic sucks in a cigarette. Foreign friends find us, slap each other hard, go to karaoke. Find bicycle at bike parking lot. Run home wondering, did I...? pants feel wet, get home to Hana the kitty's meowing from the other side of the door. Enter room. Enter Bed room. Turn on heat, turn on hot carpet. Idle. Write blog.

horse hills

In horse hills

Chattering- an impression given by the glittering rims of ice-scorched grass awaiting hot sunlight ambling toward across the land. Day in, then up, over, then day in, when the same chattering is had among the grass. There is perhaps no language as such that the grass use, borrowed by circumstance, and when circumstance changes, lifted away by heat, all disintegrated.

The wave of sun comes early and dries the land. Quiets the chattering of grass, and fills the morning air, of yet only a coolness, with an odor. Those long hours of day, of hot and terrible, stolen sparkling and little movement… (the wind of course moves, quickly in and slowly out mixed with the scent of flesh and fur; on some days no wind comes to the plains, those are truly quiet days).

Yet, there is beauty at the plains, in morning. The obsessive throwing of light and it’s youthful death, a cycle that defines white-blank beauty. Beauty: an observation of space between two things and the unreachable odds of coming into contact with the observed. After all, to take beauty into one’s pocket is just to adore it shortly and, just before tossing it away or pulverizing it by cobblestone out of boredom, rediscovering beauty in another unattainable. The convenience of the word pair ‘Unattainable beauty’ is that it can be shortened to one or the other.

These mornings on the plain, among phenomenal sparkling turf and polite stretches of wind, among the death frozen, are beautiful just such.

The Lions Stopped Attacking Women, Part 1

The lions stopped attacking women. As a result, the culture changed. The guardian business would have floundered had it not been for consistent fear of coyote assault aside. But the lions wouldn’t take part in it anymore, for whatever reason. The busy, busy women, wrapped up in clothes pulling laundry would come across a lion a day. There were that many. And it happened still, that they would see each other, just exactly like before except for now the fear was different. Female lions, male lions, no longer spilling out of the fields like boiling batter made people wonder if it weren’t some kind of bad omen. Because it didn’t seem correct, and aside from the obvious benefits, people expected things had actually gotten worse, but that they just hadn’t found it out yet.