xersized

[Alan Sondheim]

xersized

anything for some stability. i want to continue to live here. i'm a mess.
everything is changing. we are going away for three and a half months.
almost four months. our cat will be left behind. where is my daughter, my
father, where are my closest friends. i know how to walk anywhere here
with my eyes closed. i want to work on my essays. i'm too tired. i want to
think clearly. i dream of a clean white university like a pure white room
with space for writing and students at the door. i dream of conversations
well into the night and a community of thinkers and advancements i could
never have conceived on my own. i think of adequate health-care and no
more stress or insomnia or pains or those troubles which tender an early
death. in the white room where there is health care and good meals and
azure and i take walks in the bracken and it is in the middle of new york
city and there is the latest and greatest coming down the street marching
down the street and every street in fact. i am a misspent and
misconfigured life and a life that has missed down to the very root of
things. i want to wake up and not feel desperate just for a day an hour
just for a minute. i want to keep despair to keep age illness death at the
door. do not mind me if i die but not at the door not at the door of the
white room while we travel across the country in a high speed old car and
crash somewhere outside nebraska before kansas after utah below montana to
the right of ohio to the left of arkansas. we will survive and we will be
stable and just as now and computers and cameras will scatter furiously
and disappear in this most unstable of dreams i cannot leave and which is
killing me. i am always in a state of mourning a continuous state of
mourning and when did i begin to write in run on sentences as if the comma
were another prison. there is mourning and there is mourning and it is yet
the nature of depression to mourn for the smallest things the tiniest
things in the world as if the world were in the constancy of failure which
it is. we ignore the world to breathe and if we saw the world with the
clarity of true and proper vision we would back fall in a false swoon the
breath gone out from us. we would back fall because we would unstable
because the world would sadden and unstable us. oh for a stable world for
a white room where i can think even just for a moment even the slightest
thought. of which this is not one. of which this could not possibly be
one. or could it, i just don't know.


_