The earth is a great island floating in a sea of water, and suspended at each of the four cardinal points by a cord hanging down from the sky vault, which is of solid rock. When the world grows old and worn out, the people will die and the cords will break and let the earth sink down into the ocean, and all will be water again.
Slamming a gallon. That is the barcode.
Sad about a smallness of the body, for the first time.
PERMA-pubescent frame. Used to like it.
Now I see my body, a little pixelated, bad light, computer screen, walking itself down a hallway. Painful to look at, can't imagine what is moving me forward. Feel a film of something powdering the skin, arterial, digital. Why did I get up at all. I think about Latin, ambulatory, ambling, ambulation, ambulabat. In class I missed that question :
'Puer mēcum ambulabat'
Well, an uncomfortable gait to witness, nothing on the body sits very right, on me, as I walk.
If I could be full for a day. For someone else.
"If it's not beautiful for someone, it doesn't exist."
When all was water, the animals were above in Gälûñ'lätï, beyond the arch; but it was very much crowded, and they were wanting more room. They wondered what was below the water, and at last Dâyuni'sï, "Beaver's Grandchild," the little Water-beetle, offered to go and see if it could learn. It darted in every direction over the surface of the water, but could find no firm place to rest. Then it dived to the bottom and came up with some soft mud, which began to grow and spread on every side until it became the island which we call the earth. It was afterward fastened to the sky with four cords, but no one remembers who did this.
The central panel is twice the width of the wings, of the triptych. //
“Tragedy was foresworn, in ritual denial of the ripe knowledge that we are drawing away from one another, that we share only one thing, share the fear of belonging to another, or to others, or to God; love or money, tender equated in advertising and the world, where only money is currency, and under dead trees and brittle ornaments prehensile hands exchange forgeries of what the heart dare not surrender.”
I am not afraid to belong to God. I am a slave to God for as long as I am afforded the faculties of the experiential. You, too.
The conjurers put the sun another hand-breadth higher in the air, but it was still too hot. They raised it another time, and another, until it was seven handbreadths high and just under the sky arch. Then it was right, and they left it so. This is why the conjurers call the highest place Gûlkwâ'gine Di'gälûñ'lätiyûñ', "the seventh height," because it is seven hand-breadths above the earth. Every day the sun goes along under this arch, and returns at night on the upper side to the starting place.
If the person was not aware of me. The only way this could work in the ways I map it /
Crumple, crush me into a corner please.
I dreamt a person was standing on my chest. Please.
Please put a wooden board on top of me. Lay down on the board.
Slip a hand into my mouth until it feels like my jaw might crack in half.
I do feel like that all-devouring female.
I want to lap up seven lakes.
Slamming a gallon.