dreams of churches

i woke up late except i guess it wasn't really late just super early--i had two text messages on my phone which doesn't mean anything except that i went to bed the first time really, really early which is to stay i didn't even wait up to see what they wrote back. i am surprised to have woken up so widely in the middle of the night because lately i have been sleeping as if for a loong loong time i'd forgotten but recently rediscovered how. but next thing i know it was 2am and i am laying there and i cant sleep and my mind is flat and sort of dull and i dont know i cant tell is that my mind or just the heat? and why, i ask my self, do i always live in places with no internet no air condition and no tv? i thought of what mike said brad told him which is it is a farce to lay in bed late at night when you cant sleep it's just your way of pretending still that your parents rule your world and that you are still, like, only 3.

i got up and chugged some water and laid back down but hated the sheets. they were so hot. soon i was crying this happens some times and tonight it happened next to the bathroom window screen. and it is near fall out and how i love the sound of all those peepers and even without my glasses i could see all the stars. and i wish i could say i was crying for the stars and for the roof right out the window and how it leaks and also for the grass that is grown so tall it scratches and tickles at the same time. but i wasn't, i wasn't crying for the confusion and the beauty of this life i was crying for him and for me, which isn't even to say i was crying for all the hims and hers and mes, tho i guess i was, but really i was just crying because sometimes for me there's still all this greif. and it was the thin kind that tells me there's nothing left and the kind of crying i do when i know there is something way way bigger just waiting inside. and try as i want to be bigger than i am it still always comes down to all about me.

i got on facebook and read people's info again and again, and really, i have some very, very clever friends.

we are all so good, so pure and whole in our brokeness. i love us, all. i love us as much as i do the sun, the river, a night full of wet heat and dry stars. if i could write a book with my heart instead of my words i would just write pictures of all of you and it would light up the page with castles and wine and goblets filled with rain. and our smiles would be diamonds and chandeliers and our pain would be brilliant scales on our arms beautiful as dragons and glowing emerald green.

i am whisking me now and making meals out of myself. it is august the heat is here and for the first time this summer, which for some is almost over but for me is just where it ought to be, i am wishing hard for rain.