Today is day 353, and I have nothing worth saying.
I sit in a pool of light in a dark house. I love that phrase “pool of light” – the ooo’s of pool just turn your mouth round and hollow, waiting for the bite of “light” that fills everything.
Darkness, night, the shadow. Solstice almost upon us, I cannot escape the long night. I close my eyes and revel in no sight, no sense. A velvet cloth, a mask, a death.
To bed! There is no sense to be had in sitting at my desk, the pattering of the keys, and the voice, my voice, echoing in my head. If no one read the words back to me as I typed, would the sentence still form on the page? I hear the unspoken written word as clearly as a shout, always in my voice. Even that word, “voice,” the vowel stretching out lazily with my upstate nasal “oy.”
To bed! It’s night, and dreams should be, and I should not.