To catch the breath.

brown wooden board with rope

Thinking I might better hold what I meant not to lose, I tried to secure the shadow, but there was life again, trying to occur. Like the memory of a dream. Like the dream that never happened. Like the bottomless past and the future’s ancient heart.

A small part of me is flesh. The rest is myth. The rest is webbed with the enfleshed stories of more others than I know. No, I do not know myself. Except that I am no one, and only when no one shows up, can anybody be here. The cat suggested this. She seems to understand these things, so I said to the cat, cat. will you elaborate? But she has yet to grant this request. Or perhaps she has been magnanimous and elaborated extensively, and I have missed it again. She has frequently suggested that I am missing most of what is happening at any given time.

So here I am, this knotted soul so tangled that pulling only draws it tighter, with the words flying off and these colors threatening to absorb me completely into their seas. I hear a sea now, but I cannot tell you which one it is. It is likely I could not stand such knowing, that it would break me back into shards of every becoming, and now is not the time for being able to stand any more of what catches in the narrow tributary of this full throat.

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

8 thoughts on “Tangles”

    1. Michael, thank you! I can definitely see this mythological presence in your writing, and I’m glad to know that idea resonates. : )

  1. There’s a lot here, but it’s the line “Like the bottomless past and futures ancient heart.” I’ll bring into the day. Very thought provoking. You’ve dissolved time. I trust the knot released in the palm of your hand would untangle itself.

    Another crazy note – I was taken aback when I saw the word “tributary” at the end… The word came into my head yesterday afternoon, as a beautiful sounding and meaningful word. I haven’t thought of it since geography in grade school. I wrote the word in my notebook and played with a few lines (delicate strands) then left it to sit. This morning it shows up in your writing. Your usage of it “the narrow tributary of this full throat” – wonderfully thought and crafted.

    1. Chris, thank you for sharing this. Dissolving ordinary senses of time is definitely a primary obsession. Credit for that lovely idea goes to Carlo Levi. Yesterday I was reminded back to when he wrote “The future has an ancient heart.” It’s one of those ideas that just rings like a gong and it’s been ringing around ever since. I may have to give you credit for the appearance of”tributary”,because I am not sure that word has ever shown up in my writing, and I found it unusual and interesting that it did this morning.Serendipity continues to amaze : )

    1. Jeff! Thank you so much for sharing this. I’ve never seen it, and I wish you could hear how hard I’m laughing. I love this.

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