3:15 August 6th/lc

Through the black glass a square slab of light across the courtyard—hangs there suspended within you : an illuminated womb: what you make of that image: almost a god, inverted, desperate; almost a human

A gold-winged moth excites the cats. You pull nervously on your hair: no money for the magazine, no money for anything: classes cancelled, your one white shirt getting dingier with each washing in hard water.

What costs nothing: at M's near Seberov  she greets you with excitement, leads you into the garden. By the tall old fir she puts finger to her lips, and points up: the yellow eyes of a young Vyr Velky, a great-horned owl,  stare down at you.  "In daylight," you whisper.  "In daylight," M echoes, pleased.

The arrow of time: looking harder out there, you, the entire room moving into the red shift. Out there the owl - wisdom - hunting - sustenance.

Radio loops: The movie star kidnapped by bandits,  howling wind from a glacier that swallowed an RAF plane crash 50 yrs ago, swath of wild fire larger than the continent you now sit darkly upon

And a record 22 million tune in to watch Big Brother watching ten people 24/7: "makes for compulsive television."

When you look down, two soft tiger-colored feathers at your feet. You took them home, put the feathers under your pillow.

You certainly won't qualify for the Jains. Your walls are a bloodbath of mosquitoes.

You turn off the light. The dark goes indigo.

That owl left its heart on your breast while you were sleeping. Now you tell  your secrets to everyone.