Somebody, kindly lie to me
Tell me I am “going to be OK”
Soon, life will be like driving down Laurel Canyon in 1973
In a Galaxie 500
Top down, radio up
Nothing but possibilities
That I will rest easy…
like so many humans do with ease
Someone, kindly lie to me
Whisper I’ve done enough meditating, stretching, giving, therapies, effort
That soon, I will sleep (!) and wake up (!)
and every muscle, joint and nerve won’t be on fire
Please, kindly lie to me.
I promise to believe you (for now).
A collection of chapbooks called “Items: Forgotten in Drawers” made in 2017 from handwritten poetry created in Asia, Arabia, Mediterranean, then (roughly) transcribed and printed in BC, cut and glued to vintage hotel stationery in Montréal, bulk printed and collated in Vegas, assembled in Utah, and given as gifts for my birthday. Each one hand-cut/stitched and (obviously) uniquely finished with stamps (postal and inky), with affection. Run of 12 if I recall, most documented here. Turns out this collection is “Volume 1” as more similar collection have followed.
Snaps of scrapbooks in midst of assembly – both in creation of the actual scrapbook (which creates a lovely substate, as-it-were), the scraps readied to go within to make the scrapbooks into a scrapjournals,… plus kit(s) of tools on the ready, and the workspaces used to do both building and filling, are documented – for no distinct reason than enjoyment of the process.
In a room at an Ayurvedic clinic in Thrippunithura, Kerala, India, Dave review a variety of items purchases including scissors, glues, paints, old coins, currency, wallets, envelopes, bunch of cancelled stamps, handmade paper and a yellow shirt.