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Tag Archives: immediacy

i live in an apartment complex that has water issues/and every now and then we dwellers get an e-mail/saying that the water has been shut off temporarily

last night i found not by e-mail/but by a gurgling sound and no water/that it was happening again

and the timing was awful/because i had yuck on my hands/and needed to wash them

i handled that crisis by using the drinking water in the fridge to wash/depleting my potable water supply by about a third

but another crisis began to loom/that of a growing need to answer the “call of nature”

and it seemed to me that the middle of the night between sunday at 10:26pm and dawn monday morning would not see a renewal of water service

consequently and from desperation/i created an ad-hoc religion called the Church of Immediate Needs/central to which dogma was the proposition that the presiding deity or reality-aspect or supernaturally-powered listener would prioritize prayer by immediacy of need weighted by relative outrageousness of request/and if the need were sufficiently immediate and the request sufficiently modest/it would stand an excellent chance of being answered in the affirmative

and having formed this religion immediately prayed that water would fill the toilet tank after i flushed and if possible would also resume gush-on-command from shower head and faucets

and then fell into mildly troubled sleep/and woke at the urgent message from my body’s evacuation system/sent at 3:57am

and stumbled to the bathroom sink and manipulated the faucet control

and LO AND BEHOLD like a car engine cold-starting the spigot sputtered and coughed/but then gushed blessed and holy WATER

and i was able to take care of business

.

so now there is a new church…or is there?

perhaps our own bodies have their own Church of Immediate Needs

and “Gotta go! NOW!!”

is a prayer

Today’s prompt (“as always optional”) required both listening to and reading James Schuyler’s “Hymn to Life” and then doing a minimum 20 minutes of free-write, following certain checklist criteria outlined by Hoa Nguyen. Nguyen says to select and use “those that further your present tense engagement.” Two items from the checklist are “Include at least four colours” and “Introduce the occasional 3- and 4-word sentence.” There are 17 items on the checklist.

unground endpaper glass

this is an old book and the cover is buckram. it smells
like the old library it comes from. it is resting
on a round card table by a window where there are
raindrops sliding down the glass–just a few–in
no hurry, and the bright light from the overcast
sky puts a light shadow of a few of the drops
on the opened pages of the book. page 128
has a trickle painting the word “filigree” on one
line and then the phrase “traipse to” on the next.
the girl sitting at the table
closes the book. opens just the cover.
she sees a wild color-chaos inside–she
doesn’t know what endpapers are. “oh!”
comes with her startlement. she then remembers
being in a sweets-shop
and seeing a pattern
on what her mum called “napoleons.”
mum explained that a knife is drawn
through the still-warm icing
and that makes the pattern.
this pattern must have been made
similarly, but it is much wilder–violet
violent, orange oreganoing at the redder chimes beneath,
a jagjagjag as if static were choreographed
by a balletmaster. ballet. apices of pirouettes
framing a cathedrally jukebox shape.

the girl wonders why on Earth such a riot
occurs just inside the front cover. what does it
have to do with the story? is it
sideshow? is it the cleansing
of the mind’s palate? is contrast
deliberate, to give the reader relief
from this howling cacophony, when the page is
turned and the quiet, stately title arrives?

she does not know, but she does know
she is done with the book
and is now ready to paint,
or color,
or draw.

she looks out the window,
then at it. its smooth
soothing glass
is her title page,
the endpaper riot
of green and greenblue, orange and burnt sienna,
violet and VIOLET
quieted just enough.

she closes the book and goes to her room.