for some reason I feel unsafe again, as if this room could be adrift in the middle of some uncharted sea or some charted ocean.  in which latter case the charts would not matter.  twice in the same conversation a friend referred coolly to “complete psychotic breakdown”s, as if every thinking woman probably had hers before the age of 35, or else maybe she was not so impressive a personage, after all.  or, maybe I agree with this. but there are other things.

have you ever been drawn, dripping with sleep, back into the waking world?  I felt your touch.  I fell asleep to Gregorian chant–probably some psalm–a gradual ill unconsciousness until suddenly at the scruff of my neck and there I was blinking and listening feebly, hearing sharply, Hosanna filio David, the most beautiful.  as if my brain knew what to do, considering.  and I consider this line of words, this line of song, like the pattern of a beating heart.

and mine is.  beating.  when I remember why I shouldn’t follow it beating its beat into the ground, I veer off another way.  this leaves underbrush and I’m in the sun, realizing that I’m sweating and seeing vapor dancing on the horizon.  water, vapor.  if you ever plan on springing one on me, do it now.  I feel like a letter, being written (to one very dear and very far away).

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