Good morning good morning, waking you. Where did your sleeping carry you? How does your breath meet this morning?
I’m just back from a week in a place I used to live, a week spent re-meeting a landscape I thought I’d abandoned, I thought I’d left for good. Turns out those hills and beaches, that sea spray, that quality of light through the filtering trees, that rinse of blacktop winding amid farmland and marsh, even those mosquitoes and deer flies — it all still lives in me. It wasn’t just history that rose up inside to meet that knife-sharp horizon, it wasn’t just nostalgia and memory and loss; my right-now self got to walk through the palace of yesterday and hold in its/our/my hands what I have brought forward, I mean, lay its morning fingers on that day and that place that does not, as it turns out, have to be shaped or owned or by regret– Continue reading