my dog said you're a really good person
i love that 
i try to think about what r. tuttle said 
it slips my mind
how the global artist, how it's hard 
to be one
but that it's not decided
if you are one
i felt so local, isolated even in my small locality
what's it mean, global, something so small 
the intimacy of work connected
it goes where it wants to 
go it goes round
when i was doing collage i went into a room
expecting nothing to come
out more than went in
the next time i faced an empty room 
with detritus 
and thoughts i couldn't write
thoughts leaved and tree dormant
and leaves humus and thoughts
rhizomatic
try to think about what i was doing 
in the room my mind 
compost before a thought 
leaved

now the empty room of detritus
is the walk 
and the dog is going
round and round