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I do not want chocolate. I do not want chocolate. If I write it, it will be true. I made it snow that one time, recall.

I’ve been looking forward to continuing the ghazal all day. This is a good shift. That said, I didn’t think of any lines to it. That’s okay. One of the breakdowns of ghazal that I read said that it should be less rational and more impulsive. Done. That is totally my vibe tonight. It was up and down tonight, with the rascally virtue, patience, because of an epic daughter meltdown, and the dog did it again, this time covered, absolutely in decomposing carcass and bits of softened bone and actual freakin’ maggots. Maggots. Really? Bedtime was surprisingly nice, though, and then I did some Yoga, and felt very bendy. At the end of my video  (Shiva Rea’s Yoga Shakti), during the savasana, she reads this (but she changes the last line to “Deep Peace to You”, because, you know, Yoga). You should read it out loud (even you, the one who scoffs. You know who you are):

A Celtic Prayer

Deep peace of the
running waves to you.

Deep peace of the
flowing air to you.

Deep peace of the
quiet earth to you.

Deep peace of the
shining stars to you.

Deep peace of the
Son of Peace to you.

Words like this bring some kind of positive rush to the brain, psychologists are all over that: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/words-can-change-your-brain/201207/the-most-dangerous-word-in-the-world 

I have to start this ghazal, now. Time just keeps going, and that’s super annoying. Gah. Now I have to say three positive things.

Clark Fork Ghazal Fin

There are eyes along the darkened highway tonight,

but none’s brighter than the rails and engine tonight.


Just before I see their blank bodies moving close

Dangerous eyes push my feet to the brake tonight,


Tell me, oh, tell me, how do you pray in the swerve?

The picturebook God in my head listens tonight.


It is a stuck heart going across the tracks into town,

in the Cabinet Mountain Bar they talk guts tonight.


More eyes along the highway, watching, watching me,

Not just the deer, but the eyes in orbit tonight.


The newsfeed buzzes with that cold-blooded charity,

with pity in the doorframe, you walk upstairs tonight.


Talk to me, eyes, I’ll tell you what I know, of love,

its engine, its rapture, its hunt, its disarray tonight.

False peace of suburbia in savasana,
Deep peace of the cul de sac to you tonight.
Deep peace of the locked gates, deep peace of the scroll bar,
Deep peace of the good school district to you tonight.

The sky will come as cold Observer, unrecognizable,

sightless Believers, unplug your idols tonight.

“the heart’s veined temple”, is calling from waters, calls me,

infiltrates from the forest floor, branches shield tonight.

Beloved, nothing sees, nothing Knows us enraptured and unseen,

the dark night, how can they know of our state tonight?

And rock against the gloaming, Anna, and reverse the

gaze of starlight, abandoning the world tonight.


Welp. That took a very long time. I don’t like counting syllables. Should I give up the ghazal, or do another for practice? Tomorrow brings what it will. Goodnight, happy thursday.