3/28/76

Dream of a boy. He wrote a poem in red based on bible myths- one of the myths was of a place which was like a vacuum where people couldn't speak or hear. I explain to a woman that I've read his poems and am impressed by the using of the bible in this way. He is a young boy (maybe 12). I can't remember what he looks like. I sit beside him and it is a very warm feeling. I feel happy doing this. He shows me his poems.They are beautiful. But when I explain it to the woman she is critical- the poems are old. (Actually this would make it more impressive since he would be even younger when he wrote them).

I go for a ride to pick up Whimsy. I pick her up at a house. There's mail for me- tiny letter from D, another small thing. I put Whimsy in a cab with two people, a couple, in it. Joking with the cabdriver about a word (for a homeless dog?)
(3/28/76)

What could be simpler
I waited and waited
For endless time
Nothing was happening
It's true I heard noises
Some of them music
Breathing and sighing
no one new came

One night I saw movies
and at a great distance
Someone told me a secret.
Then a few stairs
and long winding hair.

Excitement is mystery
Movement is frightening
Red leotards
and open gray eyes
Drunk on laughter we
gulped down the days
My life had changed
I forgot I was living

Gold is for rich men
and I was still poor
I saved only memories
you are their alchemist

I sometimes go outside
I always return
to my chair and my dog
and my slow empty breathing

But I'll never forget
your mysterious offering
I'd trade all my gold
for your priceless uncertainty

3/30/76

And what is this real world-

Exists in a surround
tiresome boring and wonderful

by a slight change in form
as if that which was contained
taking away and giving back
an event which ocurred. A detail
included in a moment of concentration, I am
accepting the every aspect of self,
one approached and drew back , they ocurred
relatively fast or slow; one wanted the past
it wasn't shaped in any particular way-
there were so many ways of going about it.
Put two and two together.

There was more . A person may be dying.
We move to the hospital. Feeling strangely
amid life and death.

Words by the lack of words I add to the world.
I'm thinking about B. From dead to living.

What do I want from him?