Sunday, July 16, 2006

The Medic Dreams

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I knew, within my heart of hearts, that there was nothing I could do. So, I would continue to run. Run and run and run.

Funny, I am lying flat on the ground, unable to move.

Last night, the full moon had hard edges like strange chocolates gone ashy with age and oxidation. A puff of smoke. A cotton ball floating over the horizon. The sweetness drizzled into my eyes. Abjection, always sovereign, when melancholy is the reigning aesthetic.

Under the smile, hyacinths bloom and goldfish swim in circles. Logic. The radio song becomes an anthem after it reverberates relentlessly even when one tries to forget.

Three weeks ago, small brass chimes moved as the breeze took identity and reversed it. Nothing was as I thought it would be. I could not begin to tell you how and why I got here. And now that I'm here, I'm helpless. Phrases, snippets. Language tiresome Venetian blinds, the slats intercalate the dark with something else. The delusional call it illumination.

Daylight should be a simple concept. A blue or brown hue, like solitude, like memorizing the trivial, letting the larger go.

The small things remembered will save your life.

At least that's what they say.

My nostrils are filled with the fresh thick odor of dirt, dry oak, rain, fresh-cut grass. It's something else. Savage simulacrum of unity.

In the blink of an eye, time moved forward. After spending so much time alone, I realized I had been hiding, not running. I was sleepwalking through life.

Funny, I am lying flat on the ground, unable to move.

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