begging the shell-slipped pearl

 i’m so affected by objects, it’s silly. muji kitchen-ware section is so cute, makes me feel very heavy & sad, i want to cry, i feel ashamed about it. of course maybe it’s not actually the objects themselves it’s me my want my open mouth projected/reflected onto my perception. it is the dream-image of the object which moves me, the aura  shadow of a branch flicking on blacktop  a thing produced by distance, which facilitates desire.  i so want a life of my own, i so fear i’ll never have it, small things like soup bowls encompass/compose so much of that the lacquer the ritual the repetition the contentment  i shy away even as it pulls closer  of course it’s the distance which moves me, which i’ve come to love.

a warm night, window open, packing has begun in earnest. i am leaving again, my home of three years. this place has been such a gift i love my little basement room, always cool, always quiet, earthy sanctuary  the most safe i’ve ever felt  I’ll miss it so bad, i already do   i feel so grateful, i can barely breath, this is all moving along so quickly, like city lights receding. i knew this was coming, also I didn’t; what can i do? i don’t know   i listen to Alien 9 soundtrack, to Quiet Light’s new record. it’ll be okay it’ll be ok it’ll be OK