I was feeling angry, because Jan's parents asked to meet Jeff at dinner, and then, took it away. Perhaps, rage is more what I was feeling. There was no creative flow. I was an angry little particle, not a wave. I hope now I have pounded my particle into bits, and maybe will find some flow today.
I place here what I wrote this morning, and, then, end with Jane's beautiful essence.
I write in an attempt to break through to understanding:
Lineage,
the tribe,
sons, daughters,
loyalty,
values -
my son -
your daughter -
we go back to the first family here -
my family, mine - ego -
the ego says, “Mine,”
and I, in an attempt
to evolve,
say, now, “Mine this.
Find the wealth,
the merging of families outside the cave.
Inbreeding is not a good thing.
Reach! Reach! Reach!
Reach!”
I wake in early morning, into an ocean of moonlight.
My blanket is embroidered in a new language.
But its hem is the worn edge I pull over my ears.
I hear the tent flap snap.
Ash fills the hibachi, no coals.
Where will we find water today, wood?
When did the alibi for my life become mosaic law.
