Prostitute oneself: debase oneself.

8 January 2007

My Good Bajo,

I will now spend the majority of my time proving to you how well you
play in pairs.

Bajo, this is all the account. I have been asking myself lately if I
would write as much as I do if I did not worship the longhand, if I
did not devote myself to cursive, the visual of letters and ink. My
font is different now than when you first met me, the triangles?how do
you feel about that?

The wind recently is clutter?these things sneaking into a crack in the
window, couldn't close it because these things were thirsty faces
everywhere and I suppose I do not trust Noah and/or Caridad to protect
me from their anger of being locked out.

You see, if you had not been there my nightmares might have hurt me.
I, following you down stairs, swinging porch swing in a very large
blanket. You can clear it.

I dreamt about sitting with the devil on the Charles, he threatens me
and eats a beautiful little Czech girl. No permission he says to love
another, with her skin on his mouth, he counts every grimace and hands
me coffee (no sugar) as persuasion to stay? you see he is misinformed
of environment, for you are sleeping heavy next to me (because you are
homeless) and that you and I are stronger in number, a pair.

When I wake on the floor you are a face bloom in the morning,
potential for rose petals in the bath. The thirsty faces. Invisible in
the daylight, though you being the more fear able of our pairness,
they very well might be visible to you. Can we call these the mornings
of Scarborough, she sleeps slightly and when half waking reads my
mind. She makes it easy with sparkles in the air above the wood floors
to fall in love with a populated solitude.

Bajo there has been a reunion; I am a bag of bones and laughter. No
indulgence in the memory maker, 4:51 says give space to options

-go out to eat with them
-be nervous with them
-talk in corners with them
-write to them


But these cannot all be extremities?this is the weekend life, the
plush reality of the burn of sun in the morning, you wear gray and I
am little dressed in comparison to your layers.



-Cari