And so. The open road calls me. I answer it, and drive 888 miles to my new home, so far away from the cicadas, gardenias, and familiar people, places, and ways of being. So far from Old Home. The wrench in my throat tightens. I pass an old man walking a bicycle along the side of the road. I wave. He waves back, looking a million years old, and so I name him Methuselah. Methuselah of the Wheeled Devices - he blesses my U*Haul with his glaucoma smile and tonight I dream of rivers.
Of course, every goodbye has a hello just under its epidermis. And I'd say exfoliation is the whole point. It's why I hustle and flow, make it, get it, lose it, destroy it, fall into a laurel, or fuck up and start again. So what peaches and penumbras does Iowa City hold for me and my Coyote Clan? (Only the Secret Eye knows.)
I received a letter from the Rhetoric Department at U of Iowa today, letting me know that they are for real - as real as I am anyway. And so since this isn't a dream, and since we're all real enough, I guess I'd better put one foot in front of the other...see what's inside the onion. Maybe a carnelian. Maybe a carnation.
This summer will be a crucial summer for the world. I think that perhaps all things now hang in the balance. And what am I doing? I'm watching trains, a baby, and a love affair. I'm watching things change. I'm watching the spiral dance in the void. I'm driving a truck from Georgia to Iowa. And so wherever you are, dear reader, reclined in your mind, know that I'll see you in the sky above, in the tall grass, and in the ones I love. Let's let it all just be okay.
1 comment:
via con dios
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