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[Subject line from Toni Morrison's "I Am Not Seaworthy," song 5 in Honey and Rue]
A year and a couple of days ago, I was in Charleston. One of the places I visited was the Heyward-Washington House. This tile was on display in the what-got-dug-up case:
I don't remember what this embroidery was on. Maybe a bed curtain...
The docent reminded me of a woman I sang with. The mirrors reminded me of how I sometimes see everything through a phantom-filter:
Out in the garden, roses were still in bloom. Down the street, vendors were selling sweetgrass baskets. The museum inside the post office showed signs of neglect -- it had been months since any pages had been added to the guest book. The inside of the back cover was thick with ballpoint graffiti:
That said, this handsome specimen was also on display:
A year and a couple of days ago, I was in Charleston. One of the places I visited was the Heyward-Washington House. This tile was on display in the what-got-dug-up case:
I don't remember what this embroidery was on. Maybe a bed curtain...
The docent reminded me of a woman I sang with. The mirrors reminded me of how I sometimes see everything through a phantom-filter:
Out in the garden, roses were still in bloom. Down the street, vendors were selling sweetgrass baskets. The museum inside the post office showed signs of neglect -- it had been months since any pages had been added to the guest book. The inside of the back cover was thick with ballpoint graffiti:
That said, this handsome specimen was also on display:
