oh the snot has caked against my pants; it has turned into crystal.
this morning out the window the bare-branched trees were jewelled with dew.
i stood outside. everything looked real. there were things on the ends of some of the branches in the persimmon tree in the front yard. i felt like they were looking at me. i looked back at them. we passed the time that way a little, the things and me.
next to the persimmon tree a pink clotheshanger hung from a trellis.
when i was younger i tried to write stories. i wanted to make them skeletal: stripped of everything unnecessary and then once they were skeletons i wanted to decorate them. i wanted to put new unnecessary things where the old unnecessary things had been.
the clotheshanger reminded me of this. it was just a pink bit of wire hanging from a trellis, dangling a dozen diamond dewdrops. the dewdrops were unnecessary and very beautiful.
later, driving across town i saw the city in the distance: it rose roseate and faintly golden from the clouds like bespin.
love to all