the stone women covered their shoulders in white chiffon shawls and hid their faces in the clouds but we bare breasted and proud of those craggy old peaks. . .I saw a giant white phantom goose flying above them and below the blue. Ice trees and wires were adorned with dozens of small birds. The red tailed hawk flew up from some low place, I could not look, to my right. . .
but to my left in higher places of the past robins continue to feast . And my cats not knowing the wilds of themselves but feeling tormented by the desires they do not understand are restless. They like I are anxiously awaiting the long days under the sun.
still I have not unpacked. . .still I wish to travel and lay with the clouds on soft beds with blankets of tall grass and drink the water from small pools on the rocks where I also bathe and in my nudity absorb the sun and feel the sneaking eyes of the wild golden cat just behind the trees. . .planting my bare feet carefully purposefully into the earth as I walk through curtains of wood I want to feel the leaves brush against me my skin my own small golden red pelt. . .
though I love my home and the comfort of soft rich fabrics. . .
my rooms that all have their own special purpose. and hot water and music and literature. . .I just want to be out! to be in some great dance hall with no ceiling! and such rich smells! I'd gladly share a dance with the lion or bear. . .much nicer than being haunted in dreams by my own ghost.
