“Take the winding path
Up the hill until
You reach the lighthouse,”
The kindly old woman
Explained, leaning heavily
On a cane made of steel.
“Walk and walk up that
Hill. Follow it as it
Winds back and forth,”
She coughed and chuckled.
“It’s like a roll of
The dice, really, when-
Ever you go up that hill.
Sometimes the path seems
Simple, but sometimes it
Seems like it doubles
Back on itself, and you
Find yourself wondering
If you are lost, even though
The lighthouse is in plain
View the whole time, just
Up ahead.” Again, she
Coughed and smiled, smiled
And coughed. “You’ll get
There, though. We all get
There eventually, to our
Rightful place in the world.”
Summer solstice came with a bang,
Lightning struck across town and
Left blackened trees and buildings
Down the west side of the river.
Even by moonlight later that night,
We could see the play of dark on
Darker, and we were mesmerized
By the subtle insistence of blackness.
Yes, we were sure the night was
Truly blessed, its darkness making
The blackness of burnt wood bright,
Secrets unlocked by lack of sight.
When we learned the aliens had already arrived
Decades ago, it was the fish that gave them away.
You see, the fish of our world became mirrors
Into the true aspects of the aliens. One taste
Of fishy flesh, and the rainbow colors of
The aliens’ natural skin pulsed their betrayal.
In my dream, the sheep said to me,
“Hey, you forgot your ID and your
Phone at the bar last night.” I blinked.
I blinked again and realized my eyes
Were closed. And I said, “I’m asleep.
Shouldn’t I be counting you? Why
Are you talking to me?” And the sheep
Merely pointed in all cardinal directions
And even primary intercardinal ones.
“Fine,” I said. So I closed my eyes
Some more and dreamed a turtle was
Racing me to the finish line.
In this room with the old-fashioned door,
I’m certain there is someone’s eye beyond
The key hole. I sit at the desk to write,
And I feel the eye at the back of my neck,
Watching as my pen moves across the pages
Of my notebook. I stand. I take out my ID
Card on its lanyard and hang it
From the knob. Quieted, I return to my chair,
But when I look back at the door,
I see the card on its lanyard like
An angry diagonal slash of an arrow,
Judging me for blocking the view.
I’m visiting my parents in sunny California. So happy to see the sun. It’s been a very gloomy fall/winter in Minnesota. We’ve gone weeks with nary a glimpse of sun.
I’m also cleaning out my childhood bedroom. Things of note so far in my preliminary pass through:
– Elementary school yearbooks are the best!
– Why did I still have my files of college applications? Dare I read my application essays? Sadly, I seem to have moved my Yale application materials elsewhere. That application essay was about why I like ducks!
– I apparently got a lot of souvenirs on my eighth grade trip to Washington, DC and Philadelphia. Among the assorted pamphlets, commemorative coins, and a giant pencil was a facsimile copy of the Gettysburg address in Lincoln’s handwriting. My sister took it for when get daughter might need to do something in US history class a few years down the road.
– I collected a lot of little toy figurines, pins, and comic books.
My new phone has a dictation feature. So I think maybe I can do briefs I need a did dictated posts. And see how they turn out. Will be interesting to see if I can actually understand myself. The voice recognition seems to work pretty well.
What is especially amazing is that the program seems to be able to recognize commands. Like when I say the word. PDR I OD’d it insert a. Instead of spelling out the word of course if I want how to spell out the word. It doesn’t work so well.
I’ll have to see what other commands it recognizes. Cool right? It does punctuation and paragraph brakes. I wonder if it does Camas. I mean, there it is. And post.