Wednesday, January 4, 2012

R. lines up the objects on the counter according to size. this is done absently, an exercise not in establishing order but in wasting time, in busying idle hands.
the hands of R. have things to do, things requiring attention and intention. moving baubles in a row and standing bobs of plastic at attention are distractions away from a series of deeds, that just the night before, excited R. with commitment.
R. retreats away from the sounds of tonight into the chamber.
The sounds of distance turn on themselves and leave only pale and muffled impressions, and only when listened for. otherwise things are still.
the chamber offers solace and thus, reward.
R. waits for the capsule to enlarge enough so he can climb in. the duties of the day will be offset by this movement. the dishes will wait. the fabric to be folded forgotten. thankfully there is no mammal or bird or fish companion that needs attending, no bowl to refresh or box to clean.
the capsule takes longer than usual. it sputters at half size and stalls.
neglected exercises leave us plump and yearning
the feeling of things cresting right below the surface
i feel that right below the surface of my consciousness there is a world waiting to crest
competing worlds attempting to crest forth into consciousness

coils and fleeting sinew
dorsal fins and hint of scale
cryptic fish or mammal all

ideas push against the bottom of the top, sniffs and hints