hey peter, i can see your house from up here

I had no idea it was Easter until Monday afternoon, when I overheard two people talking about Easter. What are you doing for Easter? one of them burped.

Probably the strangest holiday. I wonder how many people have any real understanding of what it's (supposed to be) about. I mean, I think most people could offer up a basic famous-carpenter-on-the-cross scenario, but I bet a VAST MAJORITY could not tell you why it's called GOOD FRIDAY. And if you can think of ten people who will be in church this weekend (real people that you know, not the goddamn Pope) then please email me and call me Doubting Thomas.

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proportional parts; inks on paper (math text book), for ARIEL.

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Another drawing for my project with ARIEL, done from this poem:

How to Knit a Scarf

Your hand clamped gently
over his mouth. Your lifeline riding
his tongue.
Make fibre from the faintest
atmospheric pressure. From newsprint
and gasoline, from feathers and cellophane.
Oh and cankerworm silk.

An upturned collar and tucked-in chin
is a microclimate: pant

Turn all your finespun excuses
into fabric. Or measure and cut the strip
of machined night under street lights
all powdery moths and stupid
Wind a ball of chunky yarn

like from an alpaca

around and around

and around your neck.

* * *
Take a seniors’ complex hostage.
Your demands simple,

She writes something, I draw something back -- it's fun, and maybe we'll have something in the end, and along the way it's just another motivation to keep working. BECAUSE NO ONE'S GETTING RICH HERE.

If you don't know Ariel's work, I can recommend her book HUMP, which I keep on my bedside table, along with all my stuff on LOST EXPLORERS and CASTAWAYS and HELLISH SIEGES, as things to pick up and simply open and starting reading anywhere, which is the pretty much the best review a book can get.

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