littlefriends

unusual

to find myself in such a dark mental space. not surprising, perhaps - what with these upcoming calendar days that i feel no necessity to suffer under and yet whose inexorable pull I feel anyway (and all the odd ironic recurrences: the hurricane in the gulf, natalie's earache, Zoe's collar that (though it reaks of her lonely, paralytic journey) I should be grateful for, and am, like all these tiny bits of residue that are everything and, obviously, nothing: Andrea's journal chronicalling every true cosmic miracle of her first pregnancy, and, on its flipside the child's own call for help or large-handed record of this Saturday's meal, xeroxed and shuffled in with my uncareful Perspective lecture notes; in the dark, last light of another moving day, another emptied garage, - the broken, obsolete phone message machine marked with tape: "Save: Richard's voice!"; our attempts to entertain, to play Liverpool Rummy, to pull through some tiny thread of familial lightheartedness all the while peripherally sensing imminence)[The 'Constant Gardner', the clasp at the chest, the book on ontology - a tiny window of a moment with the self as it wants to be - reading on the fourth floor of Port Authority, waiting for the very late bus, or, here, instead, the seizure - the blank eyes looking at me and saying "Miss? Daddy?", the end of summer anyway, the leaving of the little ones (and with them their soft little hands, their sometimes dumb, sometimes hilarious refreshingly un-adult jokes and piercing screams, the garish Disney songs and deep, true connections (here: hope); the flinted chips of memories - bright, many, but yes, flinted off, as most seem things seem these days - or maybe just on unusual, melancholic, nay (I can say that on days like these) despairing days. can't say too much in this public sphere, not for secret's sake, but, fuck it i can write any damn messy long sentence I want, until it's no sentence of sense anyway.
as it is. fragments.
modifiers and quotes -unrecognized, but of the deepest reference nonetheless, even if, as they are, unacknowledged.
no tadpoles in the creek, but the damn dog still barking. relationships ending - forever and for little reason.
delicate juliet twirling on the grass. where Andrea was Joan of Arc and I, as truth and legend have it, appeared from behind the now-gone cypress tree as the Dauphin, the army, the angel of that annunciation, and the good people of France.

Juliet saying, wait, wait! before being asked to dance again by us, ragged, sitting where my parents sat when I said as the Dauphin in response to yet another earnest request for armies, ..."in time, in time" ...

now she:

not yet. i need to start all my songs with bedumpbedumpbedoo.
she, herself,... no words for it. of that same most p a r t i c u l a r, inimitable, most delightful, oh...

spirit.