2003-12-08 - 8:38 a.m.
2 weeks of nights makes a long tuneless hum. I constructed a brush. to brush the oceans teeth.
I brushed its teeth carefully, driven to do so by urges miscellaneous. the claws of beauty functioned in the making of my brush.
teeth
peel
the linings of my strange aquatic pain.
oceans brought out their lifes pause. the steel light bit, by accident and on porpoise, in the otters braincase. I passed my newly minted bristles over everyshivering surface. there wasn't much light so I packed a lunch.
new pieces of ocean arrived every day in the mail and I brushed them. I knew it would take longer than I could live but still, it strikes me as worthwhile.
similar to a lunar eclipse I wore my hair that day. it wasn't so much that I woke up but that some things happened to my sleeping body that caused me to make this brush. I slept with it in my hand for 2 weeks. no, I know what you're thinking, but it was just the nights. no one can sleep for two weeks. that's crazy.
I must be gentle with the ocean. the brush snags on jellyfish, singing whales, coral, etc... the things of the ocean are dense, quivering almost, with a purity of emotion not found on land.
my brush hums. a song the fish taught it. they swim in schools and each has only a very small part, so when my brush sings only one part it sounds almost exactly like a small pebble being dragged across a pane of glass.
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