Keathering* the daily stiles wards
off inaction, or too much reaction. Sitting
in a chair, putting down words as they come,
can be a slow-moving wave, like the short, blurry
films that play across my eyelids as I fall asleep.
I’ve often wondered if these happen for anyone else.
The director apparently likes black and white, because
that’s all I’ve see thus far. They aren’t dreams, they
are moving images that drift slowly across (or, more accurately,
from northeast to southwest) across my eyelids.
Sometimes (usually?) they are of people I know
or they are things happening in a place I am
familiar with. Me and my kids, eating at a restaurant, say.
The projection is postage stamp sized, and it begins to lose
focus the farther down it drifts. Sometimes moving my eye
will bring the movie back up, but the more I do this, the
the less effective it is, until the movie is gone entirely.
Occasionally a new movie will begin, but more often
than not, the one movie is all I get. I’m aware my
mind is constructing these, but it really doesn't
feel that way. It feels like it is something I’m
watching on a very small, old television.
*not a real word that I’m aware of, but it was sounding in my head this morning.