Monday, April 16, 2007

Fri. 20th June

This morning, I awoke with Marley's "Exodus" turning immaculately in my mind.

Every day has a different flavor and this morning's Tai Chi and Meditation were no exception. I allowed myself to fall 3 times during a right-leg kick, to relax myself enough to finally pull it off without pulling my center of gravity off to my hindside.

The meditation was good and long, but I found myself spending most of my time strategizing letters to Prescott college, or thinking Evergreen might be an option, etc. I didn't clear up as much as yesterday -- if that can be quantitatively discussed.

My water is ready. One minute.

****

I'm beginning to really love oats.

So, my walk back was eventful. I slowly walked, tugging at a rusted eyebolt sticking out of the ground (thinking of P.B. and how he loved things-rusted). It was set in concrete.

I stopped walking to roll up the right pant-leg of my gie -- and there was a yellow, triangular arachnid on it. I at first thought it was a huge tick, for it had a bloated triangular body, and all its legs were gathered up around its tiny head. But the legs, long and nimble, gave it away as a Crab Spider. It was gorgeous. It had an incredibly luminous-soft lemon-yellow body, with a tiny tangerine-colored pinstripe around it's abdomen. I gathered it up in my hands, heading for the nearest Beargrass flower cluster I could find. It was the closest color I could see in the surrounding landscape that would afford the spider camouflage.

It jumped out of my hand and scrambled into the grass.

Now, I'm here with a ready-to-eat bowl of oatmeal to my left. Goodbye for now.

****

"I think nothing is of any value in books excepting the transcendental and extraordinary. If a man is inflamed and carried away by his thought, to the degree that he forgets the authors and public and heeds only his one dream which holds him like an insanity, let me read his [poem], and you may have all the arguments and histories and criticism."

---"The Poet" in Complete Writings p. 248, William Everson

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