White Tape
Rock, Paper, Scissors ... Ink, Fabric, Wire, Clay ... the grown ups were playing a muse according to no rules ...
Our body is the first page of today's work ... every line a passage being cleared ... doing what a Roji Shaft Cambium Corridor does ...
Pajamas tucked away ... work clothes and shoes on ... body dressed for labor and a little bit of dreaming ... these are our slightly blood stained hands that show what we made last night ... The dresser drawer closes behind us like a ghost's vault ...
Junk or rheum sleep crust is out of our gazing eyes ... first words of the day will soon be spoken ... forming as we speak ... warm and confused in the throat ... behind the Adam's apple ...
This space is wax out of the ears territory ... listening for what's missing ... A swept room hears its own corners and soft bristle edges ...
Our little cobalt blue neti pot ... clearing nasal septum passages ... the same barnacles that cement themselves to whatever they touch fiction ... clearing so oxygen can move through ... The neti pot is falaj gravity and salinized water carrying what shouldn't be there out through the passages between ... The water does not ask what it's removing ...
Tongue brushed clean for wonderful different tastes to land and be received ... Receiving made physical ... Wonderful different tastes connecting ... landing on a buds and papillae cleaned surface ... Everything the day will offer will pass through Mouth of the Tongue first ...
Fingernail cracks taped ... Our hands are sometimes damaged from making ... Fingertip cracks are real ... White adhesive tape enables us to keep going despite the painful or sore cracks ... The tape doesn't heal ... it holds ...
Passages are invocation in and on the body ... Clean ... Truthful ... Stained ... Eyes of Consciousness ... Breathing It All ...
Patient quiet prayer ... not addressed to anyone other than our hands and God ... hands hearing the solemn request first ...
Mug filled with coffee ... lunch eaten standing ... a dried strip of walnut bark peeled and held to the nose ... It smells like an outdoors room we haven't entered yet ... Eyes cleared to blindless foresee what they will witness ... Ears cleaned to hear what welcomes ... Nose flushed takes in star dust and cold air from a picture window ...
What enters during minutes when eyes are opening to greet the new day exits changed at silhouette sundown ... the same way water flows through a falaj ... carrying more than it shows ...
By evening the white tape is earth toned ... our down to ground work clothes carry the day's stains ... hands washed again the pajamas come back out of the drawer ...
Invisible paths are the hinge between day and evening ... opening as hypnotic light and closing as mysterious shadows ... a maker's unscrupulous situations ... fusion of child hands and adult hands montage ... Blended ... a single note after a chord resolves.
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White Tape · Locked · April 7, 2026
Oyparaploo · Wonderful Garbage · Noir Chanson
For the love of The English
