weirdness

i am doing an independent study project/creative writing thing this quarter that is supposed to be done in 6 weeks and i have nothing nothing nothing right now but scattered everything

i thought to myself, when i decided to do this thing, that it might be about location

how location impacts psychological development

how where we locate ourselves in relation to others changes or stagnates our souls

how perceptions of the self and others change or don't change as we progress through localities

when i was reading the Satyricon last year, Petronius writes a line: ubique medius caelus est that is: everywhere the sky is in the middle

everywhere the sky is in the middle

everywhere the sky is in the middle

that's what i'm going to call this thing

everywhere the sky is in the middle

since we're talking about places, i bought some new coffee at trader joes it is from new mexico and i thought to myself, maybe it will return me to my days there and i might get some inspiration for all this

there is a tequila brand called chimayo and when i saw that i wondered the same thing as i did when i looked at the coffee, if i might be reminded of the place by consuming a thing with its name

i heard about chimayo in the news recently but i only now remember hearing the name and not what it was about though it was probably some miracle of the dirt

i went there so many times as a child but all i really remember is that the doorways are very low and even shorter people must stoop to pass through them and i also remember the tortilla stand outside my god those were amazing tortillas freshmade hot and with melted butter ahhh

that was back when there was pleasure in consumption but mostly now there isn't

blah i don't know why i am writing this right now los alamos was ages and ages ago but it has been in my head lately what with all this about childhood and location and understanding things

i have been trying so painfully lately to locate myself in or out of or beside everything

location location location locality local localizing locus locust locust swarm gross

ah what gross injustices

these days i only seem to think
in fragments and
in poems

- - -

where do you come from, child?
where were you cultivated
what aerated fields gave growth to you,
breathed in to you,
fed you to completion?

your response:
I am not complete

no, because nothing is
not the places you grew
not even your inhalations
you are growing still,
the things inside you snarl with
their age and with their bruising
and how their breaths sometimes
come only partially,
in halves

you know nothing surely but the
placenta that first littered your soil
the internal muck that spackled
the surfaces of your roots

you came from that, and even before,
from the rageful bearing down and
expellation of the male,
the terror of conception
to slightly more grown, plucked from
the sediments of your pasture
bred to feed maws that care nothing
of your origins