Dirt Lesson #1

Sept 7th

Everything sliding on an angle, on a grade, parked in waiting for the final tilt to horizontalism.
Mr. Fix it, the hummingbirds and a postcard from the metropolis comes and fixes up some breakfast for you while you wait, knees curled up to your chest, for a ride on the radio flyer.

We were taught as very young children to tie everything down and make sure it wouldn’t blow away in the wind.
We swept up all the hills before mom came home and swept them again, thinking oh how the dust settles on me and me alone.

A thick coat of dust and sun falls steadily on my home and the rain comes and tries to wash it off, it paints me golden.
It finds me sleeping in a seeping pile of grass, the heat unbelievable underneath.
On the horizon you would imagine a tall ship coming to get you, but the massive mirage of your movement, your body, is reflected in your ranch style home, it lies flat and rolls forever toward you, bringing you no such boat.
No sail in the windy belt of the United States.

When I slept last night under orange peels and the trauma of 50 children all begging me to understand, not to judge, to love them despite their wrong doings, despite their need to be the right child; I dreamt of a revelatory map- islands surrounded us. The continent broke into confetti bits all around the borders, this was the deception: that the icon of our continent had come to mean a truth to us. We believed that shape was our land.

That boat with legs and a pregnant belly spilling into the southern floor. A massive crown on its back.

Even after we made it a custom, we did not know what more there was to discover. As if a discovery leaves you at the end of a rainbow. Up Up go the towers and Down Down the pipes.

The night before, we moved into a building full of children. We stamped out our previous dreams with little feet. We held the feet in our hands. Our wrists were so sore the next day we threw them over our shoulders and ran. We ran until we could run no longer and then we fell to the ground and then the children were grown. They said: "why did you bring me here?"
It was too fast and too fun to forget. But I will forget. I will grow and continue to grow and then I will forget.

It is a lifetime guarantee, you will always be at the end of your rope.
The damn rope is dancing like the real part of your face that loves me in a breeze.
It makes such a poetry to really be in love with you.
To be afraid you might leave or I might leave, that little space of dread grows the beautiful flower.
I long to crack it open and dig out the reds and purples of regret that are living under the pretentious soil of what we believe to be a peaceful union. There is never any peace.

Once upon my foot that you stepped on in learning to dance, we got rained out. It was so sexy do you remember? We performed in a tight velvet box in paris and you held my neck in your elbow and pretended to choke me and they all squirmed in their chairs. We made them think we would burst. And then when we went home we did. We burst. We danced like sore old ladies down a popular street and made them all watch us while we led streamers behind us and our teeth were just humongous.

I had a fantasy that I could drive. Don’t laugh at me. I want to get somewhere. I want to escape the thunder of silence that crowds around me here. The human water and the human food that we have to endure to get to the bottom of things. Elixir for the young ones. Lets go try to find the natural healing authority. Where are the magicians? The witches. Lead me to them so that I might be among such a treat. Such a treat. I want to look down the black hole and jump in and float and get back out and try as hard as I can to get to the bottom. Throwing yourself down the well.

September 8th

Radius, radium, radial, radix, radical, radiate, radiation. Target practice for a new pioneer. Desperation may force you to find a center. At a loss? Try new radium, guaranteed to bring you back to square one so you may venture out anew, bringing light and love beyond the outer reaches of a circle.

My husband grunts and confronts the paper work of a difficult decision: How can I work for myself? How can I live outside the game and still rake in the bandaids? How can we eradicate the debt? Well surely we will be asking that question now. They gladly handed you the cash and then raised the price of everything including a hard-on and now you’re just like a continent, stuck between glaciers. It’s so hard to admit but I don’t yet conceive of the blood pumping through my veins. The responsibility of my aliveness is overwhelming.

Looking back on the crop, I seem to generalize a lot about nutrition. Well if it looks good then eat it. Then I’ll eat it.
Last night I dreamt we crashed the car. I sprained my neck in the curve of our crash. Quite possibly I was being reminded of the lightning. The drama in the sky about hot meeting cold and that endless banter between red and blue that can’t even let us have a single dream without them. Stubborn abuses. Asses in the sky. Sure you could call the authorities, but they would get all wet and melt and would be of no use to us in the morning when we stabbed each other over the no butter situation. Or no milk -or no eggs- or no meat -or no bread- or no fruit- or no fungus- or no fork to eat it with. That would indeed be a serious problem. You can’t rely on the rain to set you straight when the mealtime blues come sweating into your kitchen and sit down promising never to leave.

Oh my god, its so fucking obvious that when you are about to leave a place for what you might think is good, you start to really love it. Breakup sex. Traveler’s sex. Moving on sex. The really good things about a place in time only happen after you have longed for them. Lord fix upon me a permanent dye of contentment. Rig me a caravan that I may know my whole country at once and never confuse the west from the east. That I may eat the vittles of the road. The road kill of royalty, the kings shrimp basket is going soggy waiting for me to show up in the next town and dazzle the hearts of children. I am not a television personality. I do not care who knows it. I insist upon the needs of a great character. You will not enter the building in that fashion while I am inside performing a serenade for my lover.