It’s Friday. Have a wonderful description of trees.
When I’m surrounded by trees, a condition I’ve sought out pretty persistently throughout my life I think the thing I might like the most about them is this whisper like all the hair of the world passing through the tunnel of one single breath – if that is a form of percussion. This irregular hiss of trees and wind. I think it is my mother. And I am her son, and you are my dog.
from “Protect Me You” by Eileen Myles.
Jason Ockert is the author of Rabbit Punches, a collection of stories from Low Fidelity Press. Jason Ockert also edits the fiction at Waccamaw. I met him this past summer at Sewanee and he was awesome enough to share with us his word space.
And here’s what he had to say about it:
Just a map of the world. Outside, trees. That phone never rings. I got that chair at a garage sale in Syracuse and am under the impression it is worth something because after I bought it for twenty bucks the lady reconsidered and then tried to buy it back from me.
(A word about the new desk: The old desk, which had no nails and you put together like Lincoln Logs, collapsed. My knees often got caught up in the bastard. So, Staples.)
The computer is all stripped down. No internet. Not even solitare. If I can be I will be, distracted. I stare at the wall. Trees. I can find countries, man.
Thanks Jason, for the pic and paragraphs.