Thursday, June 19, 2008


I got a seizure from a rusty lid of sardines. The highway makes me work up a good sweat. The industriousness is really profound but I feel vulnerable once again chopping stuff down because it is extremely rewarding. I find men and women young and old and I share my hands I lend them that in the spirit of savoring flung at them. A one-mile wide arm is a dream but I can't take a rental car into a lot of silt--but that's why they are so fertile. You may have heard of this break dancing or thumbing a ride to Hannibal, Missouri. I want to relieve the pressure of a workweek so I get a rental car and I drive to the end of a road and I just sit there and the car pops as it cools down. I can get a bird's eye view from the top of the car a house is crushed or some animals are glowing and that fucks with my mind. I'm fortunate but safe. These unbelievable clothes are wrapping west into a room with water up to my waist I hold a camera and the rental car is floating and the rain has stopped. Weekends I pack the rental car and stamp bags it's little help I chop wood and fill the bags with sand because I am in the woods and the news is flickering in the windows of some home somewhere huddled around watching what I do because I'm down with it. With them. I might not ever come back.


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