the dust that gathers

dragonflies, too numerous to count. my favorites are the ones with the irredescent blue bodies, and the black fabric wings. opaque. running home through the woods today, i carried a dead one for some time, intent on placing it somewhere in the windowsill, or at the base of a plant, but grew depressed imagining its weightless dry body, lying there amidst the dust that gathers. placing the creature gently upon a bed of wild grasses, i wondered what might consume these dried out fairies. ants i suppose.

yesterday, one landed on my finger and stayed there for an amazingly long time, a fact that never ceases to fascinate me. are they not overwhelmed by my size? have they not learned the human capacity for unnecessary violence? i stood in the sun and watched its body pulling in and pushing out, the movement of air. and then the tent last night. i lay there wide awake in the yard, 3am, feeling the cool air come in waves, watching the bats. the other birds quiet, the bats were the kings of the night as they always are. i believe it is their mystery that i love most. the fact that i can never really look at them. i can see them sure, but can never really look. they are the pirate ships of the sky, the living ghosts that remind us that there are so many things we hardly ever see.

i believe in a way, that politicians are like bats. they are there, and i can see them, but i can't really look at them, i can't ever really have any idea of what they're doing. i suppose it would do the world good to sleep in tents more often, just watching the bats. or even on the lawn at the whitehouse, watching the politicians flutter and zip about. of course i say that, and as i type think about the fact that there are so many people that HAVE to sleep in tents. or simply on the ground. such abundance and such poverty in this world. i grow depressed if i think on it too long, perhaps because i never really do as much about it as i feel i should.

and i complain of not being able to buy the les paul. how many guitars does one need jefferson? {don't get me wrong, that sentence does NOT eradicate my desire for the guitar}

Posted by jeff pitcher at June 23, 2005 06:55 PM

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