Friday, May 18, 2007
On The Sofa
My guitar is leaning and waiting against the middle of the sofa. The stereo is crunched up between a queue of disinterested comic books. Plants grow leaf by slowly developing leaf. Bits of drawing material sit together on crispy layout paper next to me. I can see where I have sketched lines into the underside. Disks and history books clutter down the sides of cushions into the valley, the light sky glinting on their sides. No homes are fully showing through the window frames as usuall, their horizontals and verticals edging casually around. Lines upon lines of slate cutting into the isometric facade of weathered rectangles. Best to go and sleep, shift things out of the way, dive away under the mass of covers, protect myself from the web of encroaching things.