April 15, 2002

April 15, 2002 02:37 AM

The air is heavy and moist. The past two nights of my run have been dream-like in fog and mist. Streetlamps shoot down spears of light as I approach. After I go to bed, I awake at 5 or 6 a.m. and stare into the dark of the room observing the gradual merging of sunrise with sounds of birds, insects and morning traffic.

It seems this phase began when I stayed up the whole night writing – and fear was regurgitated.

There is no comfort to be found. The eyes looking into me from the mirror are red and green. I stand in the ocean as the waves crash into me. I immerse and rise. Immerse and rise.

In different chapters of this life, there have been moments when things had the illusion of placement. A lack of fear of the absolute unknown.

survival : making brownies, cleaning the house, hugging my teddy bear, laughing, imagining a certain man making love to me, running, taking a bath, singing,

and watching it all pass by