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Over five years ago in that rear view window they call the past, Sundays day of rest. I’d wake earliest. Colette, Jacob, Evan, Noah asleep. Perhaps feed the cats. Sometimes the fish. Always a joint. Ritual of comfort. A joint. Head phones & silence. Diamond dust upon the lips of those I love. A lot has transpired in that ½ a decade. But still the ritual is performed. Before this imprisonment I added coffee from a local shop & a walk along the river. Whether Evan slept or Noah, Amanda, or the legions of friends, lovers. I always achieved that morning’s dew. In here it’s nearly as simple. Perhaps a book. A poem. Or long walk on the solitary track. Always at least 5-10 minutes of undisturbed no thought. Today I learned that Luciano Pavarotti died. Wonderful voice & terrific presence. Another landmark lost. I need to listen to a radio today.

I’m plunging into isolation. Talk, shouts, rumbling of feet. Sounds of movement become background noise. I chose to ignore nearly everything. The air is chilled against bare arms, neck. Like silence, it feels good. To find solitude in prison – nearly impossible. But if you really focus your ears like you would your eyes unfocused. All blurs. Distorts. Fight not to understand words. Pretend another language.
Is that a seagull. Semi. Airplane. & wander wander. An unfocused focus. Most are tolerant of silence and those that know me know that when I remove my glasses I’m in my world. A world away. To be solitary is to be ruthless. To remove oneself – a trait of Pisces. It’s that they deal well with both ambiguity & solitude. A trait that carries true with both Kelly & myself.

A fact of history is that Ezra Pound was jailed in an insane asylum (St. Elizabeth’s) after WW II. Later in life in an attempt to explain why he stopped writing he said, “I don’t work anymore. I don’t do anything. I have become illiterate & unread. I simply fall into lethargy… & I contemplate”.
He’s also known for “I did not enter silence. Silence captured me”.
So right. So right on. I fight to stay awake. Though entirely different men under entirely different circumstances, not to mention his brilliant mind, I do understand what Ezra means. You enter a vacuum. Somewhat beautiful. Somewhat is. He had quite a bit more freedom. Friends/family – rules, but there is something to be said. Men love to go to the hole. Remove themselves from the last shreds of humanity. The silence. The silent. Bone crushing roar. Here I can only go so far. I am surrounded. We all know how easy it is to get lost in a crowd.

On a side note, listened to the radio & constructed some cup-ups of Arthur Rimbaud – really nice way to drift a Sunday afternoon.

Later.