Braided essay with Matt

(Matt’s words in italics)

I’m a fan of rocks (and my mom, brother and roommate are geologists), but I’ve never before seen the ones on Barbara’s stoop.

The big grey bird, great translator of strength to grace, rose higher through the green pines.

Perhaps they came from a different planet.

The moon hung even closer to us when we were sitting on the boulders.

A curious medium discovered on the outskirts of a NASA mission to a plutosian pebble.

We flew to space and threw rocks at the satellites. One of them exploded orange and crashed back down into the ocean.

Snatched up into large cargo bays, pulled back down to earth, making a small splash at Barbara’s stoop.

~ by doug on March 12, 2008.