Field Notes, #36, It's still August)
Aug 31st. there is some sort of orbit in my body, that senses the coming rotation. i tell outrageous nontruths about where i am or was,
This is a long note that begins with August, Again, which i wrote in maybe 2019 or 2018 or something, and the rest is from this August
August, Again ...
there is some sort of orbit in my body,
that senses the coming rotation.
i tell outrageous nontruths
about where i am or was,
they are too strangely cryptic
and ridiculous
to question.
like telling someone i am late
Because
i was watching a dog crossing the street
and then my shoes filled with ants
and i had to spend some time emptying them,
It is a lie that tells you it is a lie,
it is an agreement.
Orbiting that space again,
the hands on my clock point inward,
the time is axis,
centrifugal,
but i sense something,
a year,
getting ready to brush past me,
i notice it like looking closely at the floor,
and seeing it is all moving ants.
…
Hey,
I died,
I think,
When the sun melted into August,
Waxed the grass into green
Long sunsets,
That was when you died, I think too,
Lots of unwashed laundry then, probably,
Now too,
Nearing winter,
Now too, the shine of you
Blinds me for a moment, patch of you,
In the air now,
crawl of you, sweat of you,
…
Who are you? And who were you?
And who was it that I knew?
And who was it that you knew,
In me?
I have tried my best
To document what you said to me,
And to remember it for how it was,
And to not fall into my fantasy
That life was real then, with you,
And not as much now-
…
I don’t feel you on the planet
Anymore, and as much as I
Would like to hear from you,
It comforts me that you are
Not involved in the affairs here,
They are often difficult
…
It’s not all about you (1),
And I’ve become self-conscious,
Can you (2) take what i say
As from a third person?
The one from the back room,
Near my spine ?
Not me, just someone
Who has been watching
?
…
Who are you!
Who were you!
And who was i!
I have stood along
To be pulled through
Into this myself, now-
…
I am worried I
Cannot confess
Because I do not
Know how,
What is this to tell you?
We need not confess
To one another any longer,
Attempt to shame ourselves,
It isn’t about this,
It is about how to know
What it is to tell,
What the real word is,
The word that i have been
Trying to get to,
The one that will
Upon finding it
make all the others
Lie down.
…
On lunch break above me
I saw a huge machine
And men on wires,
Floating slowly
they tied up branches,
dismantled the tree,
One did the tying and the other
Produced a chainsaw,
He cut a bough,
The branch lifted up slowly,
Hovered over the tree,
Ascended like a holy arm,
I have never been this high,
I had never thought I could,
The oldest sycamore in Philadelphia,
They unbuilt it, slowly,
But within a few hours.
…
I have great joy!
I have great joy!
I have great joy!
I have developed
A sense for being
So interested
In the shadow of
A plant at night!
…
Moon over water,
Moon over water,
Two hands,
Slowly, over
That water,
That pale spot tunnel
…
August opens into
Some rained in belly,
Some warm green hole
Where the grass quiets the voice,
And the dirt is red.
…
My love!
My love!
My love!
My love!
Why did I stand
In the yard so long
In the cold?
Why did I wait
To be brought in?
Skin an animal
Already! At least
Cover yourself
With dirt!
Well,
…
July bled onto
The year
With uneasy
Apology,
I’m sorry,
I will keep
Bleeding.
…
Near death,
And convinced of evil,
You stilled long enough
To hear the ocean,
Not just taste its salt.
There, you began
To crawl back, not
Because of my calling,
Just because it had
Been long enough
Idling near death.
…
Does being near a body
Warm you to other bodies?
Does it make you colder?
…
It’s colder out again,
today is a clone of yesterday,
I am building a room,
A room inside a room.
…
let not our hearts
cast doubt upon
the gore of living,
It's true !
all the wrath !
and every facet wherein !
those small
kissing booths
Fitted with sheets of glass !
we flame our arrows
and set our aim,
to winds we
cannot fathom
…
visiting the house i grew up in turns me into a feverish journalist, documenting and recording, The butter dish, the pink porcelain tub.
Isn’t it amazing?
The tree is gone, and the deck railing is older.
Doesn’t anyone understand the breaking news?
Only, it isn’t news to anyone but the reporter.
It’s that same painting, look, it’s been in the hallway the whole time, can you believe it?
…
August treading,
The last heat,
The bottom of the
Foot scraping that cold
Pocket, September
Sitting in the roots
Of the magnolia,
I want to answer
All your worries
About death,
Yours, and mine,
I read in a book,
It’s all going to be fine,
Maybe even better than fine,
I’m serious,
This is the hardest part,
…
The word that i have been
Trying to get to,
The one that will
Upon finding it
make all the others
Lie down,
It is not a word at all
…
Hi. x
This past week I have been building a room. A small room, for someone to go inside. I made it out of wood and some other things. It will be at Vox Populi in Philadelphia you could see it Friday, September 5 at 6pm- 10pm, it will be there till Sunday, October 12. This past week someone I love has been dying faster than normal. I have been building the room and visiting her, trying not to embarrass her by caring so much about the dying. The back mud room at the house, adjacent to the room where we have both been sleeping, was filled with bees last week. My uncle said he vacuumed them all up, at least 200 bees (wasps actually?), but I still have been eyeing the door a little wary. I’m on the couch right now typing this, eyeing the door and the back of the recliner where she is sleeping. I just started hearing a cricket and I think it is in the corner of the room. August was when my mother died, 8 years and 16 days ago. 2,938 days since then. This month often feels anticlimactic to me now, only it also doesn’t. August feels like a circle that sometimes is a sphere, or sometimes a diamond, where I am at the narrow end in the corner wishing there was more room, or in the wide part in the middle, wondering where the corner is, feeling unsure about the space. Does any of that make sense? August is where we drag our summer bodies to, anticipating. (When I typed in howlongago.com I realized I hadn’t been to the website in awhile. There was a time when I frequented the website very often.) I feel very serious about a lot of things, I take things seriously. But I also think things are so funny, I like to laugh. My boss is often confused by me and asks me why I'm smiling, it’s usually hard to explain. At work I do a lot of watering plants, I think a lot about all the different settings on the hose, and I encounter new hose heads with new settings. I delight in the settings. My boss told me to use “cone” setting the other day, and I smiled. Why are you smiling? / I just like the cone setting. Sometimes I think the trivial delight I can have for things is interpreted as stupidness, which is fine. i think sometimes i can see every bead of the planet shaking and suffering to exist, undergoing pain, twisting, being stressed, but… also… like a bridge being walked on, where we are lucky to pass over it before it one day snaps into a canyon… that sounds scary but i meant it not to be actually. i think this is a hurting planet that is very very special and beautiful. i work on my translating, calling like a bat to find walls- attempting to trace the shape of a room into someone's open palm hoses, bees, watering, thinking about you (you)((you)) , the bonsai garden, , looking at the newspaper in the wawa, my shoes soaking wet every day, is it a cricket, is it a bee, the car, Someone I love keeps having a dream where she drops a cigarette, and in the half sleep she reaches out to pick it up. I say are you okay? It’s just a dream, rest she says Stop worrying about me Fine but the bees are going to break in and then we’ll have real trouble Okay Okay









Homework:
build something big or very small, bring something inside from outside, call someone on the phone
if able, help your friend over the phone build something, or vice versa
if you have a letter to the editor please leave a comment or try to contact me via payphone. or you can put it HERE hello?









Amazing read 👏🏾
read this one while hanging upside down at the edge of the bed letting my hair dry in front of the fan and i thought about how my thumb scrolling up was sending the words i had finished reading down into the floor ⬆️⬇️ your august carries a lot of the same feelings as my february, my howlongago is 2037 days. i hope ur loved one has peace in this time and i wish i could enter the room!!