day 009

oh, who am i kidding ?

this doesn't help me keep track of the days.

day nine is day hundred and day zero.

i’m a mess. my study is a mess.

that intertwines us; though the mess of things is beautiful.

paper and photos. pencils and peacock feathers.

empty wineglasses; once hauntingly silky pinot noir,

now dried accidental art.

anaïs says ’philippine* won't clean up such a 'gâchis terrible’

and doesn’t hear me reply i don’t want her to.

( neither do i want her to clean up my bedroom, but i swear she is in there

right now; changing the bed with newly mangled linen. )

how do you say ’i like my bed softened by my body,

scented by the spores from the mimosa mating with the fabric

of my salty dream residues.’ in french?

 

if i'd dare set foot in the library today i should look it up. for fun.

but i hear music from there;

the tuba and the timpani vigorously travel all the way in here.

the dramatic contrasts of verdi’s requiem is always a sign of trouble.

i make myself comfortable in one of the window sofas.

might have to stay a while with the fruit market paperbag.

stained raspberry red, dizzied by the judith malafronte soprano.

falling asleep in the afternoon sun, last thoughts of note to self;

buy my own copy of le petit robert.

 

~

 

* philippine is aunty anaïs maid. god, i don’t like that word .. maid.

i’m struggling with my thoughts about ’a maid’ period.

but she’s here and she’s wonderful and i don’t know if i am being a big baby.

( and isn’t that just the most beautiful name? )

 

philippine

 

[ fiilliipinj ]

 

fiillliiipinjj

 

~

 

diary continues here ..

 

 

 

 

Done