In my small way I like to transform things--soak labels off jars; clear the glass; remove the brand; shift my angle of vision and see the moon on this grease-blackened-and-browned cookie sheet.
I say this as if I am always the agent ruling my eyes to shift. In fact, often the shift happens by itself. By chance. It's the fashion to call this "creative." But I just go with it. The shift catches me. Sometimes the shift is soft, sometimes violent as when birds shoot up like geysers.
As for soaking labels off jars, that's deliberate. Yet if I make the water hot enough and wait long enough, I don't have to claw or scrape much. And sometimes glue melts and the labels just float off.
This morning when I woke at 3 A.M., thinking it was dawn, I found my notebook and wrote--a dawn of sorts. I got back to sleep. If I hadn't my eyeballs by now would feel as though they were popping out of my head. I'd be wasted. Tell me: how did you sleep last night?
