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Catalogue of Days

Days don’t stack like dominoes Anymore. Each morning finds me naked and nestled in Chocolate cake sheets the beeps of my alarm are really a KEXP-ish, late night DJ Rizz-ish trance-like nudging. Gently. I sit on folded towels to meditate because this Practice is simple. No expertise, no pricy props required. It can just be a deepening of days, the v e r t i c a l landscape of round open spaces and ever-blooming honeysuckle. Even in winter it blooms. A     s l o w n e s s . I’m learning how to breathe. Days don’t stack like dominoes. This day was balmy air and woodpeckers tapping at fir trees. It was me and the silence, driving by Discovery Elementary, with its billboard announcing Humor: Lifeskill of the Month. I want to attend Discovery Elementary, I want to play hopscotch. Further down the road geese stood stretching on one leg like yogis beside a small pond and I opened my lungs real big, real wide and honked a greeting with my mouth-horn. These indelible days refuse to stack. Instead they fold and whisper…



One thought on “Catalogue of Days

  1. i love this. and i miss you. i’m glad i visited your webspace here. this poem is good to remember during my transition.

    Posted by corinne | June 7, 2009, 11:47 am

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Poet and Tarot Reader, specializing in Water Cartography
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