i smudge space most days inviting spirits to my smoke at campfires within indoor plains for no reason at all but to give them space to rest their weary before they carry on & then on
I have many thoughts trapped inside my head. I cannot free them because they are thoughts without words to go with them, or the words that might go with them are inadequate to express those thoughts. Trying to express those thoughts feels too much like, as Alan Watts would have put it, trying to bite my own teeth.
If I managed to construct those thoughts into something that could be understood, if I could find the words and unstop this mute mouth — would anyone read them anyway? I mean, really read. I am fairly certain that they cannot be words that can be heard, so I do not dare speak.
I have for a very long time tried to personally touch these thoughts, hoping to better understand people who struggled in much the same way as I do now to express inexpressible thoughts. Now that I am on that path, I understand their struggle. There are no words, we need a new language altogether to get at the words needed to explain explain explain. Maybe, I think these thoughts can only be expressed sideways, with a slipstream sense.
After I slip into the wilds, do you think you could find me? Would you want to?
my body is my drum humming at two-twenty thumps per minutes from my thumb, terraforming my world before my eyes turning inside to see where everything is leaves and evergreens with buzz wing dragonflies dancing pastel skies slumbering in dream under a springtime sun
I just streamed an interesting folk-horror film, White Reindeer. By today’s standards most people who hesitate to call it horror, but it is no less horror than some of the Universal Monsters movies we grew up watching at Saturday matinees at the local theater for $1 an afternoon. Maybe we’ll just call it macabre.
