minus 36

"Dear Eric

Today was a strange day. It is difficult to me separate the inside from the outside. The things that I think from the thinks that I know. Sometimes is like that. Have dark areas in my mind. Injuries and deep holes whose fund I can’t see, for more that I concentrate.
The holes are everywhere and, when you perceive them, you can’t stop. Some are dark wells with echoes and others have stopped dark water in the depths. Inside them I can see a distant full moon and the cut silhouette of a person, looking back to me. The contour makes me terrorized. It is me below? Or are you? Maybe doesn’t be anybody. The view become the reflex – and… something more, another thing. Something that I knew and maybe I lose, or maybe not. I know that what I write don’t make sense, but sometimes the strangest things are essentials to me. As if the labels had fallen and were replaced in the wrong place. I write what seems important; even when I read again and means nothing, I leave as is, because what I know? Don’t lose your faith in me, Eric.
Where going everything? I wrote so many things that don’t is hear anymore. Things are lost and that is the life, but… But. Last night, I dreamed that there were five red wardrobes. Four was full and I lock them in somewhere. Was this a dream or the lasts wreckages of memory sank? You know what I mean. Inside and outside. Object and reflex. Front and back. Positive and negative. I think I am leaving things more confusing, rather than clarify them. I will stop to write now.

Weigh and hope,
Eric"

did you know

he doesn't know how to use a computer

oh

ed fella, what a man

fun at the funfair

fun fun fun

useful distractions

...and lots of them, I feel really dehydrated

almost finished

what community?

final poster, being ignored by a tractor from a coffee shop window

non place newspaper

arrival of my non place newspaper, 20 copies ready to go out into the world

more joy

mary webb

poems and spring of joy, an 80 year old book on joy.