2007-10-15 - 12:45 p.m.
outdoor house a door plastered over garage hallway rebuilt video game door music sadness
heather travis madness wistful aging music before music anthony a mysterious doorway room
filled with light in which a book is handed to me in which this is written spider footsteps
sideways light in sunbeams an oceanic orchard secret house secret shacks on highways
something leading to something an always different collection of elders in peaceful light and longing traffic noises softened by drumming and parents rebuilding a gathering bringing food
a knowledge of pastry garden cara swimming pool and grass sweet with buzzing the past overwhelming with hours of meaning in a single tone completing thoughts unthought somewhere in a corner painted walls black unfinished picnic smells my young body travis jen their names floating a piece of sky above us it's a secret to everyone in pages and pages I am meant to learn this before it flies away the elder teenagers holding peaches have eons in comfort making choices
pavement smell and summer fading through thin t shirts and a couch in the front room that makes you welcome all the world flooding in leaving no time to touch each piece, feel it and know it, a crowd of everything that is and isn't in the secret hallway you want to feel but you're not ready, you want to walk to the radio station the love of the elders is overwhelming, a sweetness at the edge of being, they are so young to feel so much about music and to have such mothers and fathers for you are floating in between them and as the feeling, it's sweetness is pulled from you as you are immaterial it leaves a residue of sadness, the smell of pie crust and peaches sliced into a bowl margot clancy the world is always calling for you as you leave it and walk down the lost hallway to the room that was rebuilt, the door plastered over and even the things written on the wall painted over to someday re-emerge in someones dream or be recited by wind in an unknown past that overwhelms you as it teems joe jessica jesse your sense of admirationg and failure becoming a shroud to view the sun through, painting everything golden as a declining picnic in the haunted yard full of gnats you want so much to be there afraid of everything as she descends a teenage angel and speaks
