March 21st, 2006
on a train with gary snyder
an open bag of dried apricots sit on my desk, they are painfully tart, like sour candy. just how I like them.
nearby a pink shoelace lies in a heap, found in a junk store, i had thoughts of using it to make tags for things, or to wrap small gifts to friends.
a lone piece of green gum, unchewed.
a green apple of the pipin variety, my current favourite.
tepid tea in a mustard yellow cup. lion mountain keemun.
a japanese postcard with a red elephant on it that you can cut out and assemble, which I will do shortly. a gift from a friend that came in the mail yesterday.
two books, “no nature” by Gary Snyder, and “independence day” by Richard Ford. the snyder has a page marked with a folded down corner, a poem entitled ‘what you should know to be a poet’ which is actually a list that includes…
the names of trees and flowers and weeds.
names of stars, and the movements of the planets and the moon.
your own six senses, with a watchful and elegant mind.
at least one kind of traditional magic.
i spent the weekend by the ocean again, smelling the eucalyptus in muir woods and listening to the rain. breakfast by a fire in stinson beach.
this morning i search the depths of myself for a small piece of motivation that will somehow get me to start work. I might rather take mr. snyder with me onto a train headed along the coast of california for some unknown destination. I could sit reading on a train for days.
watching the world through a window.
but the phone rings.