06.14.2025 new sound: wild pigs at 3am. startled by snortin, hot sounding breath in the coconut orchard and hoofs scrape scrape prickled my neck and tingled top of head (head faces orchard, toes face mountains). the moon is still so bright and i’m learning to tell time by how it falls along the mountains at night and in the morning. ‘a talk in the dark, a walk in the morning’ (arthur). oh, ate first EGG FRUIT. it was too much (euphoric), each spoonful like pie. 06.13.2025 we listen to music in the dark, don’t get us goin- might stay up till 11(!!). saw stars, moon was sleepy to rise. ten eleven years ago i tattooed the big dipper behind your ear with a sewing needle and ink, near a fire in a cottage in ballyvaughan. from the small plane the bluffs of the island looked like that ireland. we look to see if the tattoo is still there. it is. rub aloe on middle back where red got me good, tank soaked in sweat rode down low and i can’t reach everywhere, like sun can. 06.12.2025 up all night bleeding. yesterday cut up a t shirt to be fit to keep more cool. i wrapped long strip of white cotton from the crop around my chest and pulled it tight, looking in the mirror on the deck. flatness. “I have been so many places i must be sunlight. I have been diffused by clouds. To hike to the top of the mountain, I must spend the afternoon facing the steep slant of earth, my hands in brambles. Only once I am high enough can I turn and see the tin roofs and straight beds of flowers, dropped to a Euclidian flatness. Where have I been? Listen, I have been diffused by clouds, by everyone who has touched me, and just like you I am a radiation destined for the earth.” that’s Clutch Fleischmann, in Syzygy Beauty, the only book i brought to island. i’ll get a library card. and go sifting for a french press at the thrift store. this morning i woke to the sound of beam carving the flesh from a coconut to make milk for our coffee. the clouds are a low hanging mist over the mountains this morning while i write lu a letter from bed. 06.10.2025 use the candle wax to smooth the cotton thread end to feed it through sashiko needle to repair the ass split in beam’s coveralls. 06.06.2025 standing in a piss puddle on the subway in brooklyn, i thought about the same boots meeting the red dirt. the flight to main island was ten hours from new york. i ate a few tomato slices and drank cups of hot water. body’s ability to be still in deep anticipation is held by the well of curiosity that knows anticipation don’t know coming yet. tiny plane to the tiny island was butterflies neon in belly held over the pacific whole time, i always think how we ended up in the sky. i am so glad i did and the first thing that happened was blue truck driving body to ocean and all clothes off and a swim. then throwing bag in barn on the farm and barefoot in the orchard. mango, lime, fig. palmelo. banana rack! beam picked a few dried tobacco flowers and grinded em up in a cigarette. coconuts fall in the orchard and go THUMP and eventually my head stopped (will stop) swiveling. rooster goes off at six am. toes wake pointing toward mountains. (note: more on the portal of-to life.)