in my basement in Tennessee my play area and space of infinitely malleable imagination
all has been moved out after the conference and only cleanup remains and only my daughter lingers to assist me
things are shaping up and i am feeling a completeness and thoroughness and satisfaction
when the final step somehow seems to be sweeping off--as a child i used to do with water--the whole floor
with burgundy wine
my daughter assists as i pour out this wine across the floor and use the broom to spread
it evenly
at one area, where the floor appears deeply black, black as the blackest earth, but this is cement, the deep red wine on black creates a mirror surface that is wonderously and magically powerful
through the basement windows the full light of day, from up there, from beyond that mundane level, is streaming
as we quietly go about this task
.
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