Dusty Coils

Dusty coils drop from an upper shelf. It’s always like this in a garage. It helps to have a ladder handy. If you can climb into heaven you can amplify your experience of life. Note the fauna. Note the flora. Bubbles give the river away. When spring arrives flowers bloom with an almost maniacal intent. Swimming is erratic in consciousness. The currents are funny. Unpredictable. You know what I’m talking about. The self-consciousness of finding oneself the only customer in a gift shop awakens a dimension of being that savors of volition. It makes you dizzy, this nothingness of future possibilities. Why nothingness? Why is it nothing? Is nothingness nothing? The universe is a cauldron of bubbling entropy, a blistering slop of muddling energy fluctuations and continuous conversion between various forms of energy and matter. It’s hard to choose just one thing on the menu. I write words on the forehead and around the corners of the mouth. It helps me understand the realm of color. Every choice leads to something providential, something growling and alive and pacing back and forth in its cage. Falling in love. Winning money. Losing money. A lyrical submersion in absinthe. Selecting the right pair of reading glasses. There have always been moments like this. Events so subtle, so small, they barely register on the mind at all. Tiny things. Paper clips. Rubber bands. Raisins. Reasons. Recipes. Rice? Sure. I like rice. Rice is ideal for arbitration and weddings. But if you're worried about forged documents and contract negotiations, I'd look for a good watermark. They’re pretty too. Like the opening notes of John Lennon's Julia. I’d like to step out of this paragraph and give you a big hug. I should probably take a bath first. Bath? Did I say bath? I never take baths. I prefer showers. It helps with my tinnitus, too. Masks it. I’m continually occupied with the nude body, which is well adapted to this kind of work. Red erupts as the color green rides through me. I’m literally exploding, flailing about, looking for the right blue, the ideal teal for this gig. People say I’m too aggressive. I tell them that the best way to rob a bank is to own a bank. What do you call those people that climb rock walls without any equipment? Free solo climbing. Just shoes and chalk. Dialing in finger cracks. Using nothing but their wit. Their guts. Fancy footwork. Skeleton, muscles, and skin. Life isn’t a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced. Said Kierkegaard. I’m not sure how that applies here, dangling from a rock 1,000 feet above certain death, but that said, I can feel a lyrical wind rising, and this, too, shall take wing, and let go.