I remember—as a child—watching the traveling sun alight the reds and oranges of the stained glass inside Calvary Chapel.
Like so much these days I photographed it through a window while passing by.
Tonight I’m home. This will be one of three nights I’ve slept at home in 3 months. Being among my things is like being on the earth, although I’m more and more at home in movement, suspended, nowhere and going.
Tomorrow I’m off to Santa Fe for a couple of days. I have to deliver a few last words to the desert.
FILTH OF DEATH, WHO CAN CLEAN YOU OUT?
(Anne Carson, Antigonick)