Monday, May 09, 2005


... building castles made of sand.

patterns pass by one another causing gracefull moires that fall across the back wall of my hotel room. all thought fell forward and hit the floor like a sack of bricks. the dust in my mind rose up and up clouding my judgement. cold rain makes me feel that way. today is fearful. yesterday was worse.

the pidgeons are all on thier perches. the quiet cold is a menace today, but i'll take the bait. it is my day.

the wind gets soggy in the late spring. it always does. electrical storms too.

this morning a foolish wave delivers a pakage unto these rocky shores. i found it while walking along the beach. my camera made a mockery of every image. my mind was off. i was off. while i cursed the digital sky a large wave brought me a gift. the gift of the quiet cool, quiet surrender to the sleep of ages. a wet place to dance with the ghost shrimp and sing the songs of black rubber whales and octopus ink.

a slip ... and quiet cool. everywhere is the same quiet cool. it makes me sleepy. cold rain makes me feel that way.