warm/the rest

steve, kevin, and a small child went hiking. steve's daughter was there, too.



























arrested rest—rest arresting
nubilous impressions of the moon and the mountaintops;
arresting rest, discomfiting peace, restless rest—
i was tied up in warmth
(assuring, comforting warmth),
and you, gentle fire, slowly rose and fell,
sometimes broadcasting yourself in stunning tongues of flame,
sometimes withdrawn, smoldering within yourself.

i added wood when i thought it wise, but i never really knew.

rest, fire,
be still in the lingering snow;
be soft words and heavy eyelids an offering
to you for your reassurance that it’s ok to relax
on a cold night.

scraps

adam trask and i drove through Kansas, and we chatted with jean valjean. samuel hamilton was in the wind. nils and sarah michals are parents. ben and elle tyler are one.



















by all means, feed the children: do not starve them to feed the dogs. but it sure is nice when crumbs fall past the lost sheep and off of the table. the children don’t earn their bread: it is given from love, not merit, but it is given gladly—if through toil, then gladly still—and their joy is the joy of the parents. so when cain was told “if you do well, will you not be accepted?” i wonder if he had forgotten to be a child, but rather made himself a slave or a dog. “behold, the feet!” “for after it was sold, was it not at your disposal?” i can’t believe that she was a dog. i can’t believe that the conversation was in earnest; there were other sheep not of this fold—one flock, one shepherd—and yet she would be a dog. there is plenty, even for those who sincerely believe that they are dogs. even still, to hear “be it done for you as you desire” is stunning. in those days the dogs were made children—and children who take their case before neither cain nor ananias. perhaps such a dog honors its master most by crawling out from under the table and finally taking a seat.

permanence

language is a frightfully powerful thing—there is no unspeaking, and a thing long assumed, once verbally confirmed, acquires nearly irrevocable persistence. a thing long relied upon, once proclaimed, may even defy mathematics or seal heavenly decree. this mystery is profound.

we do things with words, and sometimes too cheaply. hopefully my words tend to be purchased sincerely.

Ben Tyler married Elle Kernitz a few months ago, and suddenly Ben Tyler was married to Elle Tyler, not Elle Kernitz.



to speak true things is often uncomfortable for me, notwithstanding that they be foreknown. perhaps there is a metaphysics that truly asserts that words rend new truths from the ether into the fabric of the universe. or perhaps words are simply extractive, removing safety nets that may have been transparent in the first place.

my mother rules her kitchen. it senses her presence, and it obeys. the rest of us eat and are glad of it.



Rachel’s dog rules the rest of us. when Paxton would be carried, he will be carried. when Paxton would be in a shirt, he will be in a shirt. we walk at a trail and Rachel poses and hides and laughs. i regret living so far from her, so i will make her come here tomorrow.

time

in oklahoma, i see colin. we eat soup at whole foods and drink juice at all of the places that close. we drink coffee and talk and laugh and dream. some days you know mortality. "i want good things for you"--the epitome. replace hollow words with even the feeblest of deeds--with even omission.





we drink tea in his garage. socks over jeans. werner herzog questions the penguins. brent hodge plays with light and fire--there are records and laughter and there is some sort of meaning behind it all, and some days we feel more than other days like we know what that is.





















no one said “time”
but i heard “time”
like the ocean or like a diamond
treasured and beautiful
(certainly not for weakness)—
valued,
a shameful thing to waste.
lost
like cachet ii:
we could stand beside its shores,
the dust in its waters denying envy a home
(and, for that, seeming all the more
to be the very symbol of envy itself)
and cry
“timeless! these glaciers
were here long before us
and will be thousands of years hence;
there will always be time to drink later”—
we knew it to be something we could count on,
but one morning perhaps it’s reduced to puddles,
nearly emptied overnight.
i heard “time”,
treasure time
like the ocean or like a diamond,
or like cachet ii.
don’t waste time:
make good on even the detritus,
and maybe the lake will be filled yet again.

dignity

just over three months ago, i dusted off my tired old blog and started trying to catch up, little by little.

it happened on a quiet wednesday afternoon. i was probably tired, because as a graduate student (read: elderly child) i sometimes slip into the deceitful mode of whining about how busy and tired i am (what with how i'm forced to think so much--alas! mortal labor). i tiredly walked from Syntactic Theory: Construction Grammar to a bus stop on broadway with Sarah Michals, and was impressed with the strong afternoon light that warmed the town's skeletal trees against the gently foreboding grays of some low clouds to the north and east. if a guy had half an ounce of dignity, he wouldn't go home right now, i thought, he'd drive up into the foothills and take some landscapes that--while not unprecedented--would nevertheless be very nice.

well, i didn't have much, but i had at least half an ounce. i drove halfway to the field that is all that is left of all of my earthly possessions (as of september 2010) and did as much as i could with a palette of yellow and blue.

























i've never been that excited about birthdays. i appreciate a quiet birthday, maybe a nice meal with my family or with one or two of my closest friends. we'd better be pretty close friends if it's going to be two, though. the next day was my birthday.

ben tyler and elle kernitz (now elle tyler) called dibs on my birthday an unreasonable number of months in advance. clearly my company on my birthday was in great demand, but my bathtub was forced to admit that it hadn't spoken up soon enough to win such an esteemed prize from them.

we made pizza and chatted. we had plans to watch a movie or something to that effect. we talked about their upcoming wedding.

sam, i feel like i should warn you. some people are coming. they are people who we think you'll be comfortable with and have fun with. maybe we could play games or something.

surely ben was saying that some of his friends of his coming into town in a few weeks. oh, when? i asked.

i think in about three minutes. elle and i did not at first agree about whether or not we should do this, but then we decided that it would be good to do, and that hopefully you won't hate it.

a knock at the door.

the rest of the night could just as well be a footnote, but that it was a very enjoyable time with people who really are important to me. the key to the night is that i felt like a person. i have irrational preferences and insecurities and now-i'm-too-overwhelmed triggers--you could call them flaws if you wanted to (i'm inclined to). those flaws were recognized and respected. that was more important than the fact that it was the day of the year on which i was born or how fun the game was (very).