Fairy Tales in my Mind

The house is snuffing out around me, I set to listen to this: light by light, rooms gestured into containment: emotions, stresses, fissures folding up and storing in the net of sleep. (To reawaken in the morning). The room: gurry, post-it notes, Revenue Law: Principles & Practice, old sweat, the furniture oriented as a cowl around the television, stray ash, Charles Portis’ Masters of Atlantis, a caved-in dried-out mollusc borrowed from Franny Ponge, time everywhere. Drop a Morbier sandwich and a spate of small miracles will cover the deficit of care, suring it home, intact, miffed and intact. Nothing has happened by the end of today. I haven’t happened.

“for this is how the world occurs: not piecemeal
but entireand instantaneous the way we happen:woman
blackbird man”