Day 706, June 8, 2022
Listening to history recited
by a man with the adroit dexterity of a savant,
and the constancy of a bumble bee.
The thing I remember most is the thing I remember least.
Can you imagine the panic
of letting children into the sanctuary of a toy collector?
How about a decadent slice of cheesecake?
Or letting go of a rope
and falling through the air,
a moment of flight,
just long enough to gasp,
before the water rose up to swallow
breasts, and chin?
I woke this morning with reminders for my more awake self.
I am perhaps most productive before I brush my teeth.
The morning betrayed the day.
Nobody deserves the fate of a broken phone,
a punctured tire,
an extinguished animal.
We should be all loved as the child massaged back to life,
as the stunned scarlet tanager resting on a pant leg,
as the evening sky before a storm.
|James Turrell’s C.A.V.U. at Mass MoCA|