March 25, 2012

Dream last night. I was in Malta. I had become a Maltese, and they taught me a tradition they almost never shared with strangers. The tradition is that you carry around with you a little box–usually a long, thin oval, almost like a pencil box, and in that box you have two or three items which remind you of your life. They might be photographs, or a photo and a rock from your childhood garden, or a piece of sheet music and a corner of cloth, anything. I had just been given mine, and was in some confusion as to what to put in it. I kept asking other people to see theirs, so I would know the parameters. Of course, what is most secretly meaningful to one is probably incomprehensible to another.

Sang Palestrina’s “Sicut Cervus” to inaugurate the new choir risers.

Moments until I do JD’s radio poetry show. I have no idea what I’m meant to do or say. Does anybody listen? It’s time to pray that they do not.

Electric and swift revisions of Dinosaur Movie.

Adder’s tongue in bloom, lilac on the verge.