topdressing, scoop shovel, edge, backfill,
level, pick, pitchfork, gravel, sand,
rootball, trench, big red, stuart, gil, mark,
ben--first day on the job & i'm in heaven,
stu says enjoy the honeymoon while it lasts.
tireder 'an hell, after work i pedal without a
path, stop in at Thriftko by chance, an old
GoldE Manumatic slide projector for $12.99 and
ringdangdoo gogo guitar record from 1966. i
ride one-handed (precarious balance of record
& projector in other) the whole way to
golden gardens, where everything's so
beautiful i don't know where to look--at
sunbeams streaming to meet mist rising off the
water, breeze giving shape to sails, boats
heeling over? or at the clouds like a rack of
ribs stretching away to brace the sky? the
answer is: at these words, black sharpie on
the back of 3 kill your television stickers.
and later, at the computer, transcribing a
moment of consciousness published to the web.
is it just so much more clutter? suddenly the
Sound is audible, a series of small waves, the
wake of a freighter that's already far away,
the way these words echo thought, evidence of
a world that passed through my brain, bits of
gravel, going... going... gone.