the woman named tomorrow

October 24, 2009 | Filed Under extraordinary 

apple juice on chin and all, i’ll kiss that boy any time. jude, you are such a weirdo and i love it.

this morning, how do i sing of this morning? the morning was already blowing in through the window last night, around two, just before i went to bed. i cleaned up my heaps of paper mess yesterday and actually vacuumed the studio floor so it was hard to go to bed, sitting at a clean desk, twisting wire, cutting out birds, listening to music together in the quiet, the wind telling us about the morning. shortly after this lola woke up and would not go back to sleep. i drifted off as she was galloping a miniature horse on my head and shoulder. great. and then came the morning. the sun in silver and the brightest colored white, those unspeakable trees, the thousandth bird in the window, the sky, the leaves singing of the morning, the night tucked away for later. but the wind, the wind this morning is the wind of poems, wordless and wild, a dream invisible.

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