TWINKLE

beyond infinities of math

consciousness is the universe

Sometimes the best of a drawing is what's left out. So it is of what can't be said that meaning slips through the cracks.

Deep into the night, a willow tree leaked in from someone else's dream. It was a cactus as well, a circus barker. It was Mr. West lecturing symbolic logic, holding a frayed book he no longer needed, quoting from memory, directing us to specific pages. His class was an illuminated manuscript come alive.

How noisy. All that. Deep at night, when the world rolls up its sidewalks, nothing appears, for those fortunate enough. Nothing is heard. It's not a willow seed and my favorite thing, doing nothing, is happening. The pen, perhaps encoding an inherited script, slides across the page. It's not even a lawn mower sleeping in the garage. Mr. West, are you listening?

From out there in the blackness comes gliding in a small white butterfly. It could be a raindrop out of a cloudless sky. But I'll make it a drop of oil floating on water, to accommodate reasonable minds, though this image is only an amusement to while away waiting for the traffic light to change.

Twinkie is psychic. She comes in, curls up on my blanket and goes to sleep. This is the immediate effect of having decided to accept the image of a fluttering white visitor. Sometimes she also purrs softly. I decide to check out the moon phase lunacy factor.

It's a waning, crescent moon on the 28^th of April, 35% visible. Not too disturbing. By now I think the unbidden appearance of a white insect is something I have forgotten. It could be an improvisation, like a tune assembled from unlikely meanderings of a lazy afternoon, now reassembled to play together again.

She understands and speaks English. Sometimes in the morning, if Susan has put her out on the front porch, she'll know when I enter the bathroom and meow outside the window. I'll go to the front door and let her back in. If I'm watching TV and her food bowl is empty, she meows.

When it is dark, dark, dark at night, and not a place to be throwing out an anchor, then I think it's time for her to come in. I just have to go look by the back door. She is there.