Thu, 19 May 2005

i hold your hidden name in the hollows of my body
Some of the neighbors have Vietnamese singing kites, from which they attach hooks and razor-wire, so to duel above the neighborhood, standing on the roofs of the houses and listening to the shrieking descent of wounded kites falling back to the earth, scraps of rice paper and ribbons like spilled fuselage as the little kids down at the park try to shoot the victor out of the sky with pump-action bb guns. unfortunately, not all pedestrians in the neighborhood are aware of what takes place above their heads (mostly post-Chicago kids who dropped out of the university and don’t think to look up), and when a broken mass of metal edges falls out of the sky with a horrible muscle-locking squeal, sometimes that can confuse a person, and not everybody gets out of the way in time. Me, I have a glorious violet umbrella with a Robert Fludd designed cosmogram in ultramarine, dark enough that you have to get close to see it, at which distance you might notice the mesh armor sewn into the bottom. Should anyone ever decide to shoot arrows at me, I’m ready.
(12:13.05.19.2005) [/ana] #