transition nr everything is everywhere and nowhere you discover long-lost items under your dresser that come with some semblance of meaning you catch corners that haven't been cleaned sneaky parts unknown, contents yet to be revealed you wipe them down you pull things toward you, push them away, rid of them for good but you can't stop sneezing. does the dust ever settle? 220105 ... unhinged . 220105 ... kerry the block is in a state of transition. tina has moved out and her house is up for sale–there was an open house last sunday and i wanted to go but i didn’t make it–only in my dreams. the nameless (to me) little old man in the salmon-colored house across the street has moved, or died, and the insides of the house are being noisily dismantled and carved out like a pumpkin. next door, brendan is still working (alone) on his bathroom renovation project, and the wall between us shudders and thuds seemingly at random. i can’t get a sense of his schedule, or maybe he doesn’t have one. our new neighbors are rebecca and dave and their little gray pointy-eared dog, beans. they just moved in and have already installed window boxes overflowing with red and purple and orange flowers, and there are blue ceramic pots of marigolds on their steps, and a concrete and tiled turtle with some kind of small palm sprouting out of its shell. their front door was already red but now it seems even redder. they are so nice, and i can’t hate them, though i want to because it’s been nearly a year and i still haven’t painted the front door blue like i keep saying i will, and i’ve only just now put out some succulents but the pots are so small and the unrelenting sun has faded their rosettes, and the lightbulb in the lantern by the front door is too bright and too white. 220519 ... e_o_i I love the image of the house carved out like a pumpkin. New neighbours are on my parents' left - the LaPointes moved out. The new people have kids and speak Spanish. Shiloh and I came across one of them while he was upside down. The dog was sniffing in the direction of the fence and I didn't want to bother that neighbour because I saw he was doing exercises outside, but then I was curious if he'd talk to me; Shiloh's whims could be an excuse. I found myself eye-level with a pair of ankles and feet. He was doing a handstand against the wall of the house. I didn't see his transition from rightside up to upside down. 220519 ... e_o_i (Probably the old neighbours spelled their name Lapointe. I am thinking of my McSomething forebears.) 220519 ... kerry "Shiloh and I came across one of them while he was upside down." this sentence is... fun? whimsical? kind of imprecise in a just-right way? it brings all kinds of images to mind. first i thought of you walking an upside-down dog. then i realized/decided it was the neighbor, and i thought of one of the kids on monkey bars or a swing set. i like how you let us play with this for a moment before revealing that it's a handstand. 220520 ... e_o_i I'm glad you enjoyed that! (or at least found it interestingly puzzling) ...Of course, it also makes me realize that the "he" was ambiguous, so if I reworked that, I'd be more precise. But it was a fun(ny) moment, seeing the man's feet when I expected to see his face. 220520 what's it to you? who go blather from