And so its back at it. Decidedly this summer swished by and me with it. You may have seen me out and about, who knows, maybe I healed your sick dog, or fixed your steps. I don't remember, but how are you? I saw you dancing at the Metal Museum, to rave music. I saw you drinking alone at Murphy's at three in the afternoon. I heard you on the radio, cringing about something to music. You've had a busy summer, too.
And now autumn is here. It is raining here in Memphis for the first time in two months. The wind drives it in on horseback, whipping the poor things with metal tipped tails! The trees are falling down in its rush, dried out to the point of breaking. The earth is soaking it up in boxes. I am staying inside, not like the birds. They are swimming.
I did get out this morning though. Raced out to pay rent, forcing Ms. Bantura off of her oxygen. She was winded at the door as I counted the money slowly. The rain had stopped for only a moment, and I drove back to town to get a cup of coffee. The deck became a waterfall as we smoked cigarettes and talked of the storms damage so far. Blackness, wetness, doors slamming, leaks, a crushed motorbike, mud.

KNOW THY ENEMY + I do not know myself. The southern sun is kissing the city low, below the belt line. They are not dishonest kisses. The sun will be around tomorrow, when this city is gone. The sun has no fear of abandonment. I am working it out, waking up early to be with my father, to be with my brother. I am trying to build on an old foundation. I am trying to fix a leaky boat, before the water rises. I feel alone still, wrapped in a blanket of oldness. I have takin off the dark glasses. I am cleaning the dust off old wounds, old fears. I feel for my friends, who have fallin victim to my ignorance. Hold me to my words, that I might speak less, and let them fall away under what I do. I am still learning how to do.
When God shows his face to me, will I recognize it? Will I have to rely on the context, or will I know Him by his gait, the way his eyes wrinkle in a smile? I am still learning how to smile like Him.
I am eating your soup, that you cooked for us. It is old now, and getting soft. It has not lost its potency, but grown more accustomed to itself, floating in its own water. I am looking up your name on the internet, to discover what you portray to those you do not know. I am hiding the clothes you left in my room, because I cannot find my own. I am talking about you in my dreams, with people I do not recognize. They are not listening.
My thoughts are not in line, and they never will be. I am a wave, that is a circle that flows in and out of this box. I cannot justify my own existence, nor the existence of God. I can only justify the hammer, and the shovel, and the soup, and my teeth. Everything else is up for grabs. Everything else is already missing or on Ebay. I do not know myself. How can I know you?

ARKABUTLA + It was a day trip. We left The Castle behind to fade into the cold and drove down HWY 51 towards the outer counties. Sunday's lend themselves to church, whether you go to a building or a lake.

ARKABUTLA + It was a day trip. We left The Castle behind to fade into the cold and drove down HWY 51 towards the outer counties.

SNOW + When I woke up this morning it was another good reason to get up. I hadn't seen snow since...Flagstaff or, no, maybe Wolf Creek on the Divide. It makes the cold suffer less. Things get lighter. People share their chicken.
Last night it was falling when I left the Lamplighter, casting a romantic light on everything. We laughed and kissed and danced in it, even hugging the bum that came hustling.