Roses; 13:00
A tear on my cheek. Maybe more. Mountains loomed across the waters. It was here that my mom told me to keep dreaming. She also asked me not to move to campus, you can just commute. Langley is not far. But who’s to say she knows anything. Beyond Eden between sky and waters; lions shouldering clouds. My heart roars
Nation; 11:30
The Acer saccharum frond illuminates carmine against ivory between velvet buttresses on vexillum communion with sky. I saw birb again.
“My name is Cerulean Tu’um’est Hysteria Gull Lavigne and I have long, cerulean blue hair (that’s how I got my name) with seafoam streaks and white tips that reaches my wings and icy blue eyes like limpid tears.” said the birb. “Latent Eros represses the collective cortex. Sucking thumbs of sacrificial lambs, the collective unconscious bruised by Oedipal castration anxiety and wine-soaked aubergine envy.”
And it was that moment I realized. An individual. My mind’s eye; hordes of people trampling down on manicured grass in Helvetica that says “Keep Off Private Property."
The Plaza; 9:45
The stone raised in interrupted semi-circles around the echo of my own hoarse voice. Body lean, all long straight lines and angles; stood rigid, hands hanging at my sides, palms out; my blood heavy in my hands, the wind chills the hollow of my hunched spine; my hair waving with sky, neither blonde nor red but the exact shade of ripe orange rinds. Everyone weighs so much. Herded sheep. "Naïve, corrupt, sheepish agoras; immune to a single voice of difference."
The Fountain; 9:30
Late to lecture that was at nine. I see the birb swimming in the fountain. No water today. Drained bare concrete laying naked under the grey skies. Exposed guts. What’s true? Everything is just a construct, like concrete below shaped by human hands. If everything is in our head, why worry? Sisyphus pushing that rock endlessly. Unable to love who you want. Wrong orders at Cactus Club. Breathe. Let go of that rock, you’ve been free all along. You are birb. In that fountainhead of civilization