it’s the wilderness


i love and hate this job. it’s the wilderness.

what do i mean? i mean, i went out into nothing with nothing but an idea of a thing and ever since then it’s been having to make everything up as i go along… which i think is probably what the wilderness is like, you know? i think: eventually somewhere i’m going to come across that spot that i thought would be out here somewhere… and you do, usually when you least expect, when your head is turned, glancing at some obscure angle from your straight-forward view… that’s when you see the way the sun, now behind your shoulder, comes cutting through the bric-a-brac collection of leaves and limbs and all those suspended things behind you…

can you tell how i’m feeling just by the sea of ellipses that is gulping around here, licking the spaces between my thoughts?


walking down the hallway, the scent of a cologne you wore a few times hangs faintly here and there, or trails away from someone who has recently passed through, perhaps. i didn’t really like that scent at the time, on your neck so close to my nose, but later i liked it more. today i wanted to stand still and smell it like listening; then i realized i didn’t want to stand still at all, but continue walking through it, as if it and i were walking together, fading – it into the surroundings, me out of them.


the week will pass quickly, i think. it is almost december. today i am wearing something that could pass as no-reason-to-look in a paris subway. black & gray.

…but then around my neck a trickle of gold from a market in tel aviv this summer.

perhaps i am more now myself than i have ever been. this one is a cliche that guides us to the truth — with a little effort, with a little effort.


About scribblelip

walking down the road with a book of conjugations in my hand.
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