So I finally made it back to California. I am here again in Laurel Canyon with the hummingbirds and the trees that bend across my window and shake in the wind. I am in a yellow room with my poetry books on the desk beside me. I am in the barrel of a canyon, before the lip of a hill. I still feel like I am in two places. When I was in England I could not imagine ever being here again. Now I am I feel like I live in liquid, where all places are one- because I am.
I am writing this blog post today so that I write. I think perhaps I am still drunk with jetlag. I feel like I have placed a piece of tracing paper over myself, drawn around it and that is the me that is awake. The solid part of me is curled up in the ethers, hurtling silently towards an open palm.
Forgive me if this post is full of curls and no sense, but that is probably alot of what I am. It just accentuates itself when I step off a plane and take my time to land.