Thursday, July 31, 2014

ad majorem Dei gloriam

I let down green shade behind blue chair. Grey-brown cat stirs looking out window, steps through purple tent near white canvas bag under iron-legged table.

This is life on thursday morning.

White dog and brown dog in dooryard.

Egg and toast remains drift on plates in metal basin sink.

I read obituaries the ages of whom are my age or younger.

Every ailment is deadly.

On walk this morning at Still,Marbles we do our periodic enthuse about it being a final stay place for the dying, an interim practice place for the meditative, a beginning consciousness place for the contemplative.

As much of the world sniggers with political deviousness or inflamatory aggression -- we prefer to encircle a moribund property with imaginative thought.

Two cats on blue futon close eyes and take their rest. 

Friday, July 11, 2014

quies, presque silencio

Illness defines nothing. I suspect illness undefines. Falls everything apart.

The curious sensation of reading obituaries -- there I go, there I go!

What do we want from one another?

Enter quietly; visit briefly; leave with ease of back door closing quietly.