It could be that everything I fall in love with is a ghost, because they leave their whole souls there, in writing and art and music, and I get to pick up what I want to, blue and green and purple glass out of the red drowsy dirt, carry it home. That love might be a big haint on it’s own, chased, caught when it wants to be, disappeared into the sun.
The world glows stranger every day, words from starlings mixed and matched, and here I am, standing in the mud of it, the sky and the earth going on forever, and I can only be around so long.
“i cant be good no more, once like I did before, I can’t be good, because the world gone wrong,”
The light goes so different out here, said it before, but - it was 8 in the morning and it seems like evening was coming down, same as a winter day but the heat come up, traveling out north-east in the deep-south, the light was always way back and the clouds low & blue, chasing fog, same as chasing ghosts the whole stretch of this land, out, under the route (feeling more root than rowt these days,) green bayous and old cypress on one side, brown white fields a little flooded on the other, fog just within seeing,
Cat skulls in the mud, slick, against the Sunflower, deer prints sliding, dog prints, too,
So I know how to get places, we all do now, phones, all that - but today the road kept shifting and disappearing, and that old little computer unsure and the whole cloud-universe mis-directing, and I came around a corner with a mule on a hill, scraggly, whorly, friendly, happy at home, white against the copper ground and brown pines, stormed sky, came over and wasn’t even pushy. Seemed glad to just set.
It is raining again, gentle on the barn roof, same as ocean rain. Out driving it seemed like I could be anywhere, Alabama, North Carolina, hills and buildings, one building a dream from Tallahassee,
The day warm and close, life a dream of meant-to-be, a dream of “if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here,” a shifting painting and a practicing storyteller and steady music, I am in constant pursuit. Maybe that’s all it is, is just being in love out and open into the world.
Just about at tears most of the day with gladfulness, thankful that this is a theme of life so far,
Buildings sleeping into the ground, light as a prism across the dirt, against the clouds, behind all these trees, changing, it’s always changing,
I know it isn’t always this way, but it seems like it could be -
Might be two hours from Memphis, from Oxford, but I don’t want to go -
The mosquitos come out into the heat
The sun set so quick, at first it seemed like I could get ahead of the day but it still caught up and ran past,
I got up this morning, I said my morning prayer
