Bhutan | Day 100
I desire to be with a city.
I desire to be swept into it’s tide.
To be in synch with it’s wake, and in rhyme with it’s way.
To be fast. To be free.
To being modernized and updated.
The latest 2.0 version of ...“something.”
I cling to being accessible, to being able to access -
people, places, food, ideas
I am not soothed by simplicity.
I am not calm in the woods.
I am not made happy or peaceful by the site of many trees
....or a single one.….
I am dreaming of a summer day, milking goats.
A folly of clever antics from a four legged friends;
fresh milk in a jar called Mason;
hay bailed; sitting domesticated & rural.
A scribbled yellow sun in the sky, as designed by the crayon of a 5 year old — wavy rays in orange, earth’s crust bound. Be here. Be there. Be city, be sky.
Last summer I lay on the breast of a dead horse.
The smell of hay, wet. The heat of the body, emanating.
Last summer I nursed a rabbit freed from the jaws of a dog.
Last summer I dissected a tractor and Frankensteined it back to life.
…but this is spring — later.
Newer. Isolated. Noned.