sitting in a clean room, unable to analyze last night's primary dream.
shades pulled back fully from the windows, defused light floats, mellowing, over bodies and belongings.
ravi shankar tirelessly weaves gorgeous misery with his sitar from the record player.
curried vegetables stew in the crock pot [my mother gave me] in the kitchen; parsnips and tomatoes, peppers and potatoes, steeping seductively in a savory tofu sauce. preparation for another potluck :]
overwhelming calm possesses the room, flowing through veins, pulsating slowly and thoroughly, to even the most remote and minute of capillaries.
I am thinking fondly of yellow and wondering, would it be silly to name a child Marigold?
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1 comment:
marigold would be a beautiful name
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