Another “aside” – writings that happen in the meantimes…


I consider myself ‘straight as an arrow’  that swerves like a boomerang.  In other words, I ruminate clear sensations, desires, opinions – consider, and then revise.  It all comes back to me.

When I was a child, I thought as a child, behaved as a child…but now…now that…well, I’ve put away the childish things.  Now I’m just a fucked-up adult.  It’s hard for me to tell from what’s coming or going.

She’s cumming.  Now she’s going.

I saw a coyote the other day.  I was driving in the country, speeding along a gravel road.  A grey coyote, large, apparently healthy, came streaming through the corn or wheat or soybeans pacing my van like a dog.  These things surprise me.  And  happen.

Now she’s going.

Like a coyote I set out to pace her, run alongside, track and trace her.  She’s cumming, I’m breakneck, I’m hungry, I’ve got her, I’m with her, we’re “in” as it were…

She’s going.

I run straight and fast and hard and she knows it.  I’m honest.  I can’t tell truth from lies.  She loses me, I parallel, and now we’re neck-and-neck, side-by-side, and sprinting, I’ve got her, she’s stretching, I’m on her, she’s spreading, I’m ravenous, she’s daunting, I fear, I crave, on point, in flight, the Caravan has nothing on me.

If I were a sailor.  An aardvark.  A policeman.  I am none of these.  But I love her, she outpaces me, I can’t catch, and she looks back, and she’s cumming, and now going.

I wish.

And that would be how it would end, with my wishing, her being, my envisioning and inventing and conspiring, but there’s more.  And the coyote, and the rabbit, and the hawk and howling wind.  And the mountain and the river and the ocean and breezy glade.  And there’s life – yes, there’s that, and we’re here, or somewhere, and everything rushes, and to be honest I don’t know deception from reality, my perceptions and illusions are the same, but I dream.  And a coyote, and a boy.  And a human and a male.  And she’s a lady and a wolf, a rodent and a scream, and we tossle and we fight, and devour and delight, and it’s all a simple game – a complex, coordinated, disjunctive weather of dance that never quite syncs up, and that’s okay, because the coyote thrives in run, and the owl lives for the hunt…the mouse delights in escape, and the thought its incompletion…

And I straight as an arrow, swerving like a boomerang.

6 thoughts on “Boomerang

  1. An extraordinary embodiment of sexuality and wilderness, Nathan. Who else could have written this except for you? It has taken all these years to get here, but you are arriving, my friend, in this where-you-are, and it makes me happy, as a friend in the art, to see. I am learning much.

  2. Lise: These comments are very significant to me. Thank you, both for looking in on my work, and for taking the time to read it and comment. I am grateful for encouragement as well. I am a slow learner, but if it’s a happening “where-I-am” it delights me. I feel lost in it as ever, but more in love with it as always. Thank you.

"Authors frequently say things they are unaware of; only after they have gotten the reactions of their readers do they discover what they have said" - Umberto Eco

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