Measurements.

Time, heartache, temperature.Dancing the night away. Unintentional hiding in rooms. Coming to your senses: sight/intuition, space, sound/the voice on the other side of the wall, touch/distance.Coming to you: memories, mornings, midnight rendez-vous. Being in boxes, in different places, together and separately, throughout the world.Hiding and seeking over and over, the games we perpetuate. Partners in crime, in life.

loose teeth

vagueness. individuation. anonymity.

and then something happened

"It is not possible to control a mind-time with a stopwatch or metronome. In the mind-world, things spread out and go beyond time.


There is a wind that never dies.



There maybe a dream that two dream together, but there is no chair that two see together."

Yoko Ono
"To the Wesleyan People..."

per suggestion

a sneak peek

how time passes (memories)

1. tucked in a blanket, a slippery blanket, on the sandpaper roof under the lofty treetop, under the blanket of blacksky and starholes in the summertime. you wrote your words in whispers on papers. tacked letters to the wall. everything was illustrated, lived in. living with passion.

2. december is different for everyone, yes. reading each other's eyes. how you got to where you are. another heart exists-it always does when you have this kind. Swearing loudly, would you like a pickle? theres much more, ouch here, touch our _______,
touch more.

3. like you, I know what it is to forget. like you, I am endowed with memory. like you I have struggled with all my might not to forget. like you, I longed for a memory beyond consolation. a memory of shadows and stone. for my part I struggled every daywith all my might against the horror of no longer understanding the reason to remember.

4. I awoke at the beginning of the cold. studying another who is studying another. nobody wondering where i am and if i am okay. nobody knowing exactly where i am. focus on the issue, situation or behavior, not on the person. take initiative to make things better. something has happened, but you don't know what it is. peach tea and wool army blankets will keep you warm in the early spring. recalling avenues, treetop apartments, balconies, dim lights. sleeping in warm places.

Just me, Samuel Smith Taddy Porter, a slice of pecan pie, a Hermes typewriter and some good tunes. Keeping warm, cozy, and creative tonight. Another sunshadow another flash of light. Documentation of the days. Commas. The loss of articles. Patience, innocence, meekness now. These things have floated off into a deep canyon. Buried deep deepdown like a time capsule. A fossil. It's a far place from where I once was. I come back to where I began, things uncover themselves. The manner in which I surrendered all young hope is the same as rediscovering my age-old integrity. Looking closely at things is someting that has to be learned. Being vague is somthing that cannot be denied. Secret passages. Tonight I salute solidarity. I hold the secrets with a smile. My secrets are honest, pure honey. Privacy is the joyous nectar I value and seldom share with others in times of celebration and connection. Love stories are written everyday. Even if you are alone. I am.