notwords

we are perfect, by adelaide rose


hi, you don't know me. in my world it is 6:02am. sunrise was nice today, thanks for asking. the evening was fine too. a little blurry around the edges. sometimes they're crisp. sharp. particular. other times, not soo much. they just seem to drift off into their own pondering. a train of thought type of thing that never ricochets back in on itself. in my world good morning sounds like Pantha du Prince. at least this good morning does. other times it sounds like a few scattered birds. occasional pizzicato speckles. i listen to lots of things you probably don't. Shostakovich. Monolake. Burial. Bic Runga. i like words. i like them to be precise. i'll tell you why (just in case you're interested, or you haven't heard me say it before, because from time to time i feel the need to reiterate the reason to myself. just in case i forget. or just in case i myself am interested. which i am usually, but), the reason why is: i don't feel understood. not really anyway. and i can't work out how to... be better understood. i figure language is a good start. words that more closely resemble what i mean might be one step. for example, maybe what i really mean is dipsomania. or that i feel acarpous. maybe when she spoke it was mellifluous. that is more precisely what i mean.


*___*___*

one day, i was sitting at a white desk, on a bus, in a line waiting for coffee, and a boy came up to me, and looked at me a minute, and held out his hand. which i took, but didn't move from my spot. he wasn't in a rush, but he looked at me waiting. will there be glockenspiels there? i thought to ask, but i didn't.


*___*___*

the common law is misunderstood sometimes by people who come from civil law mentalities. even the Unites States is flirting with codifying soo much of everything. there's this great relief that comes when you can think there's a book somewhere with all the rules in it. probably accounts for most of the religious people i know too. words on paper that set things straight. point to answers. delineate solutions. but the common law, law based on precedent, stare decisis, breathes. that's the difference. it is a three dimensional construct, where threads grow, nuggets of ideas and possibilities coalesce over time, the murmurs of old men and women in austere gowns with creases on their foreheads gaining momentum and for a while, drifting along steadily. but, then, one day, some renegade looks over and notices the rest of society took a right turn. some new idea had dawned... that a native people had pre-existing rights to some dusty patch of nothing up north of Australia, or that it made no sense to tell people where to sit on the bus. something like that. and so, one day, a new bunch of stuffy old-bags wearing intimidating black robes decide, what the eff, hang a left here. and pow. a thread dies. a few more petals of a flower are picked. words are forgotten, old torts die (seduction), new ones are born (defamation); there's a lifespan to justice it seems. the measure of it, the yardstick changes. breathes. there are popular kids (negligence) and misfits. dreamers and the ghosts of things that we intended to leave behind but found ourselves wearing one hundred years on (sovereignty sovereignty sovereignty).


*___*___*

by 6:30am it is a timid light out.


*___*___*

perhaps this is what it means to be young. an unwillingness to accept meaninglessness, and simultaneously, an inability to derive genuine, satisfactory okayness from the tiny glimmers of occasional meaning we find. i have been trying to ignore my recent unhappiness. i figure, unspoken to, perhaps it will go find other landscapes to foredoom.


*___*___*

O ne _d AY.
__the se) lost (lost) (soo lost) word/s

will find un.expected ly
____________________H O ME z

words, gravity,
_____memory,
___________all those. <--__all those.) _unCONTROL_ a b l e__things.

c o n t r o l
a b l e
a b l e
c o n t r o l

won d'aye.
(these are the:__all of them, these

soo soo _lo st where!ds____(where?)

calm hone.
calm home.
come home.


*___*___*

(i have nothing else to say. but if i stop writing, i will be stranded at 6:45 in the morning. with nothing to do or be.

and that's scary.

ssh. don't say anything.
just sit with me a minute, i can hear you breathing in the commas_, ______, __;

__,
______________,______,_____._____________________________>

_______;__ , .________ .__________________ ::

__._____________,__._____?_,________,



__)

(t h i s_ i s_ t i m e_,
can you hear it?


__________m ______o __v ______e
_____________________i _n g
________________l __o
_________________s_____ t




(moving , losing , loving , lost)