L'aura del Campo

One year anniversary of blog. At the gazebo.

          SUMMER: 17 Nur (21 June)          

The one year anniversary of this blog was the 20th. It has changed and grown in a year.

Weather where I am: 91º
Weather where a dear friend is: 73º
Weather in Abidjan, Côte d'Ivoire: 77º

Two appointments today. Went to my therapist who wants me to work on strengthening my resources. And being in the moment, aware of the dirt I am gardening in, par example.

IMAGES

At the Gazebo

A whiff of Swedish rye, no bird nor bee nor ant (I speaks too soon - de ants know better, I throws dem crumbs to grow they wings) purple salvia, white zinnias; no sign of the morning's sprinkles; my clothes hanging out to dry; sunflower seeds; a plastic badge, no condoms - used or waiting (is this a good thing?); cigarette butts; a red cap from a missing pen; one over-trned pointy oak leaf; the sound of traffic and laughter muffled in the distance, moving away; a nest over the overhead light; a note to myself ('december of aught three').

I was sitting at the gazebo where Michelle Begay died in December of 2004. I had previously written her an elegy "A radiant moon has set" . This is what I wrote yesterday:

June remembers December

At the gazebo where Michelle died:
no trace of blood or sorrow,
two tables painted brown,
three benches peeling brown,
brown iron fencing in three sides,
blocking off the dawn.

The west lays open
for the black dog on a red leash
and the white man (no leash) dressed in white.
The flowers are blue and white
this midsummer's night.

In the depths of winter,
what did you see before your blackened eyes?
White fluff, black sky?
Full of the stars and moon,
empty of the day
that never came for you.

Your children have grown since then, Michelle;
your boyfriend has moved on.
And this gazebo stands alone this summer,
remembering a winter's song. [163.199]

Edited from my Journal, page 1009 (First entry of my new notebook for Summer!):

Well, Gare, I tried calling you ... no luck. Susan asked whether you were a resource. I said that you could be. You're like the eye of a hurricane, calm and blue-eyed. Would've liked to have spoken with you while I was in her office. These things don't always work out like that.

Visited friends. Had a lunch of pastrami and provolone. Misty, a pale torty, came right to me. I like cats and they like me. Their house is way out the west end of town ... on rolling hills, difficult on a bike, but I could manage. If I could stay there for a while, it would give me peace and quiet, possibly for 4-6 weeks. One possible strategy would be to find something more permanent on the north or east end of town or if I'm accepted into university - leaving, bye-bye, adios.

Malcolm Miller (future mayor) spoke this stolen misquote: "I can shake babies and kiss people's hands". He is now the proud owner of a green ukelele ($25 at Richard's) and knows the beginning of "Home on the Range" (state song of Kansas), a sign of good things to come.

At Henry's ~ 6 p.m. and trying to stay awake.

I haven't written much these last 10 days. Today is making up for that. Just wrote another sketch about Montana [163.204] wondering whether I could write 50 for that state if I so chose. I think I could.

10-20-30 Report (update from May 20th):

I've kept track of my writing for perhaps two years. Just like someone who needs to lose weight (like me), I do not check it everyday. Three times per month in ten day increments is enough!

Journal {goal = 1 page/day}:
May 20th, page 977
June 20th, page 1008

'Poems' (numbered from March 20th) (goal = 2/day):
May 20th: #141 (goal=122) +19
June 20th: #199 (goal=184) +15

Blog {7/10 days}:
May 20th: 10/10
June 20th: 8/10

Edited poems {1/day}:
May 11-20th: 10
June 11-20th: 12

Images {1/blog entry}:

May 11-20th: 10/10
June 11-20th: 6/ 8