August 10, 2002
Anything can break, anything can be repaired.
Just relax, I tell myself, worrying about
new scratches in things, ashes of incense falling on carpet.
The first thing I notice was a picture
that was supposed to be there but was not there.
“Temporal and spatial arrangement”.
We have hot dogs.
Read letter from Philip to Joanne,
“Stinson Beach, California,
Thursday 19:IX:68 in the middle of the afternoon”.
Maybe I’ll read this at Memorial Reading
and short piece of my own.
Ask Rick to reserve “Imaginations of the Taj Majal”,
“Further Notice”, and “The Turn” for me.
I’m forgetting if I told the story of something
that happened already, or if I should tell it right away
before I forget. All day bad headache,
going on three days now, bad sleep. More like no sleep.
Very jittery about something, maybe anticipation
of return to California, visit old friends,
see the living reminders of Philip.
Fiddling with stuff, repairs and maintenance.
Need to pull myself together.
New routine with Cosmos around.
Feel bad ’cause he might be bored or feel neglected.
If he had it his way he’d be in the room with me
watching TV, playing on my computer,
eating Sunshine onion chips, drinking fruit punch.
He just walked in to say, “Tell me when you’re done
we can watch a movie.”
I’ll never get any poetry written.
What am I doing now?
Craving a chocolate donut. Thirsty as the day ends.