The sacred and profane.

Ohio. Sunset at 5:23pm with temperatures deep below freezing. At a meeting in a church basement, I admired a large wooden cross before a bank of filing cabinets and contemplated the two-thousand-year collision of metaphysics and paperwork that led to this moment.

Outside, an airplane engine grinds overhead. Telephone screens glow in the night like devotional candles. I once heard a woman say, “I refuse to believe in a god of confusion.” I often think about her voice, small and hushed, a desire addressed to nobody in particular. Perhaps it’s the greatest desire of all, to believe there’s some sense to all of this.

Temple Ov Saturn – Stellar Collision

Bride of the Sun | 2018 | Bandcamp
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March 7, 2022


Yesterday I saw the birthplace of William Blake, now a strip of concrete between an Indian restaurant and an expensive handbag store.
June 21, 2022


Ohio. Sunset: 9:05pm. The longest day of the year, and, thank god, soon we'll be making more night. This journal will become a halfway house for homeless paragraphs from the stories I'm writing.
June 13, 2022


Ohio. Sunset: 9:02pm. The weather lady looked a little freaked out tonight as she stood before a map soaked in neon red.
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