drawn from darkness

 

I was surprised to see this, as I didn’t realize I had a better photo of it as, like all my drawings and paintings as well as all my books; it is stored away in a garage in Michigan 

I drew this during a 48 hour blackout in the dark when I was living in Cedarhurst NY and if you look closely you can see that the date on there coincides with that well known black out

 

we call them “the arts” but it really is our diary .... our hope, our book of days .... and the love letter we leave behind  

 

my silence, dictionary; the air has grown as brutal chill as the horizon. how fast into the dark ages from medieval.... we go in search of light 

do not let go

 

ever more still 

as was before 

so does it now remain

 

He says to me,

“if it were possible to hop a magic carpet ride to —somewhere —some other time .... not in the virus time—what would you do?”

“In a world with no borders?” I say out loud and he nods,

“you mean where would I go, I think—don’t you?”

quiet noir noël

I think as I walk to the sauna through the little narrow pathway through the shrubs, it is the other way to get there from the part of the hill before it slopes down to the farmhouse

We have spent so very little time in here since last year, it only now even occurs to me. But suddenly it felt that I longed so much to be .... here

somewhere that matters

....somewhere I belong.... and it can be such a desperate ache ....to belong somewhere ....

but I only thought of the sauna because of how ....and only now realize once again — how yes.... how much like it feels like .... the place in the dream

but with the cold dead wood in the stove the place has a chill to it of another haunting image 

only it seems it does not cause me to want to go; I want instead to connect ....to feel.... to connect a feeling to that part of me ....that long got left as roadkill 

It seems our minds have been elsewhere instead of coming here to enjoy it, I think..... and sit on the wood bench that looks out into the trees

and I don’t know where I go in my head but it seems far enough away that I don’t even hear when the door opens 

“I can get a fire going,” I had not seen him come in 

“Oh!” I jump 

He follows my gaze in the direction of the view but it is not the view that I think we are both looking at. I mean— or is he? I’m not. 

He says,

“we should spend Jul night in here and just a fire....” but it is there in his voice that tells me.... he remembers it this way too and says against my ear, “celebrate like pagans.”

 

the armor has become so heavy, all the crumbs blew away 

            and it is just so dark upon this solitary path  .... 

the burden is so heavy