perhaps the truth depends upon a walk around the lake
—notes toward a supreme fiction
Monday, July 27, 2009
everything is illuminating
I see it -- my habits of seeing, the sightline I've been stuck in, the same old same old you know, it's always trees, bird, the dead chimpanzee, make it new, breakfast or collage but the same. It's a habit this way I've been seeing, like smoking or chocolate. So obvious that a different landscape would be evocative, but how to make a blue door from an old sock is the conundrum.