hic vigilans somniat
...there are three children playing at the curb, jumping in and out of a deep puddle of mud and dirt. The oldest of these, perhaps eight years old, stops in the midst of bossing the other two around and turns as he notices me... ...and a man’s voice tells me “Look to the world around you...” as I wake up,… Continue reading Sunday nap
...gathered around the table, we trade anecdotes and witty replies . . . just a bunch of guys hanging out, who also happen to be famous — all except me, of course. I can’t believe I’m here, can’t believe that everyone just assumes I belong... ...he’s lying in the shore, dozing in the early evening breeze. The surface of the… Continue reading a jar of mud and other fragments