The End

1 February 2016

Googled the difference between description and naming. Performing speech acts alone and in pajamas. What kinds of plurals live in this weather. Slightly slimy feeling of the skin while moving through the city summer. I cleared a space for rhetoric. Sun pounding down all around you. In the dream she was alive and ran a restaurant in a Queens rowhouse. I sat at the table with composure. Is aging an effect of the body or of time. Little green strips laid end-to-end. New holes in your shirt. Drinking ginseng through a tiny straw. Her face was wider and more freckled. The opposite of winter. So hemispheric. Quoted the activist meeting while wondering how to define activism. How to articulate a position from afar. I remembered how he’d said I’ll call right back and then weeks passed. How the new place fits you like a hand-me-down coat. The fountain dried up and the ache after a day on your feet. Artmaking as a voluntary and uncompensated simulacrum of labor. Working my way into productive discomfort. This helped me know what not to expect. I imagined a t-shirt and then there it was. The pair of dirty socks left on the floor. Violent rocking of the ceiling fan. All the stars I imagine outside the city limits. Cooperative. Cheerful. How the noise of the air conditioner drowned out the movie dialogue. The sunburn peeling in centimeter-long strips. Wanting to walk through the coolness of the morning. Knowing how to make the string tight enough. Most of what I saw was a pair of buildings I went back and forth between. A perfect photo of pastel apartment trim. The problem is my feet not my shoes. New Haven Style Pizza delivered in the Texas night. Googled what kind of language is a description. In the dream she regarded me pleasantly but without recognition.

 


This entry was posted in THE END and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related Posts:

Comments are closed.

Please read Cordite's comments policy before joining the discussion.