The Secret Heart of Things

Every once and a while, I catch up with myself. It takes an awful lot of running, though.

In my mind right now there is the heat of Ojai, pale green shelves with bleached out deer skulls and sea-shells. My heart, I think it's half open, maybe broken, something is spilling out of it, contents, evidence. My limbs are bags filled with sand that is wet in some parts and dry in others. The sun either shines all day without rest into the night, or never rises at all and leaves me in the dark. I'm starting to get restless again, like I want to fly away from myself.

 I told Zanna how I'm feeling and she told me to pray, to pray in my bones. I like the sound of that. It sounds like the South, it sounds like Meaning. I think restlessness is a hunger for meaning. How could I have forgotten everything I came to know? God help me.

"Well, I saw straightaway that the lay was steep
But I fell for you, honey, easy as falling asleep
And that, right there is the course I keep

And no amount of talking
Is going to soften the fall
But, like after the rain
Step out of the overhang, that's all"

         - Good Intentions Paving Company, Joanna Newsom