hard or easy

i’ve had to draw the curtains and light candles. the sky is the color of milk that a cat has died and left behind in a chipped porcelain bowl on a porch the sun has stripped of color and the wind has robbed of paint. the sodden light feels like layers of papier mache sopping over the skin, rounding out your angles, chilling your neck with clay-stained rivulets of murky tapwater like anonymous tears.

i know that’s kind of vague, but i hope you get the picture.

i’m waiting for something to render. i’m pretending to mimic the great pretender. i’m a quick change the color of ember. i’m the last thing we felt you no longer remember. i’m a maker, crowdbreaker, and lender. i’m a tiny spring that moves like a big september. i’m hoping she gets what i send her. and i’m waiting for something to render.

well, that was too many candles. the inside of my throat now tastes like artificial pumpkin and has a sleazy sort of patina to it. yay for breathing in multiple candles while you work. 

despite this weather that crawled out of some sewer grate in london to find me, i am lifted by the idea that june really will be the month i am free of a lot of backed up schedule. in fact, i predict that by June 07, i will be done with the biggie. and perhaps by the end of June, I will have cleared the schedule. so that leaves me two weeks on this one. exciting. because once i smooth out my schedule, which has been like trying to rush a boa as it dissolves a shetland pony, i plan some exciting stuff, artwise. 

whenever i wear corduroy i feel like i am a child in the 1970s again. it’s good for rainy days. although i still don’t think i have enough corduroy for oregon.

all the while
in the background
i’m not waiting
i’m training
there’s a long arc
i’m staking
there’s a silence i’m un
making