as, now again

we are here in bandon, oregon, a town perhaps missing a prefix 'a' but nonetheless populated with crab shacks, sand dunes, and a squat cupcake of a lighthouse.  the wind is always blowing. this morning the clouds were heavy fists over the ocean, now there is a mist so fine it is difficult to tell whether it is obscuring my vision from without or if my eyes are filming over from within.

on my morning walk, i found an orange sandcrawler with translucent skin.  i could see its dark blood moving around inside its body.  i hopped between rock parapets and saw a dead crescent on the sand. a sea lion.  it made me howling sad.  offshore, bouquets of birds whirled around and through a keyhole in a rock wall and i looked at the horizon line riding waves up and down through the hole for a long time.  around the corner i found the wind pushing light into tidepools and a bonfire of tiny barnacles on the wall.  a giant left a wooden teacup in a rock crack for just a moment, but a giant moment is an eon to smaller beings and it is there still.

you are there in our northern city, smiling, lazing, writing double-spaced symbols onto sheet after sheet of paper.  i am sending so many good thoughts your way for your test and for your general self and will have these and so many other stories for you when i get back.

"And so the great moon said, you should not distress, because everything is happening the way it should, and not the way it should not."