once again a late night bout with the lung trouble short of breath stationed with my tea in the front room. this is what I get when I try to clean the place, but how cannot I not clean? should I invest in a surgical mask? I can operate on the hallway closet some more when I have more time. I spent an hour cleaning the dirt from it today from when the cats got in there and attacked the remains of an old plant, scattering much of it off the shelf down into our belongings. my old army green duffle bag I purchased 12+ years ago in India, I finally tossed.
these are just details I feel like throwing in at this hour.
because I’m so distraught. may in fact have to take the
emergency medicine, tussin, that makes me
tremble and shake but puts me to sleep finally.
I loathe the cherry medicine taste and often
vow to take it as rarely as once or twice a year
or better, once a decade, but realize it’s something I
need more often
makes me shake just thinking about it
back in arlington I tried to perfect
a simple life of working a small job
with little worries, living in a house where
I watched practically zero television
when I would get off work, I’d come home
and curl up to the epic Brothers Karamazov and
be pulled into that world
these days it’s X-Men, Sandman, 1604, and other comics
someone mentioned that back then Tolstoy and others
were television for people
I think that’s what drove me in some of that reading
and that was the mood I was trying to invoke in my recent poem
“bones act like leaves blown”
where I go: a traveler on business, a train carries them in the dead of night, he meets with cousins for the first time, sits down for a meal.” this is how Dostoevsky’s book The Idiot starts out, the protagonist on a train, starting up a conversation with strangers and making new friends. the mood is very quaint, for the lack of a better word. candlelit. a storm at night, rattling of window panes, a gathering for a story, for poetry. I want to build a cult based on gathering in evenings like this when the sun is completely down and like minded folk who feel excluded from other venues, can gather and quietly swap stories and ideas naturally in an old wooden house almost about to fall over from leaning to the left too much.