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Thursday |
gil, stuart, and i were troubleshooting clogged irrigation pipes,
flushing & backwashing to force dirt and rock out. i sat in a corner
by the main box--up, on; down, off--in a triangle of shade, west side
of yellow house, crosslegged, very erect, breathing the way allen
ginsberg taught us, following air past tip of nose, down throat
into lungs and dissipating out. i tried to notice trees and clouds.
"rob on, rob off. stu on, stu off." gil issued the commands, it was not
a very hard job. i watched the ants, their tiny shadows (sun so sharp
even their legs stood out), and felt like God--which is to say, invisible.
they could not see or conceive of me, sitting there silently, and i
wondered about those things beyond my comprehension, very near
but outside my ability to perceive them. an ant crawls on my hand
& i blow it off. i am not its god. we'll have to find other ways to talk.