like balls of string and small tools film reels glue sticks four million highlighter pens a roll of orange ribbon broken pencils staplers with no staples referees whistles ...
you know, that drawer. That nasty drawer, which will bite you if you put your hand into it.
I found this
Amongst these nasty things: a little journal full of drawings. I have no idea why it was there, but I had not seen it for quite some time, and there were no dates.
I wondered if it was from when I went to Paris one time
Or when I visited the Prado. Who knows?
I suspect, however, this little Infanta rarely strays from her wall in Madrid.
Judging from the final page, it was long long ago, though when I read the words, I could have written it not very long ago at all...
even though I have now worn my face
for much longer than I had then.
here I draw an epilogue to this dream that really happened
and now this moment and every moment is the culmination of all
dreams the wondrousness and
tragedies of this life and all my lives
now and ever.