i thought of oliver a couple times the last few days specifically the song consider yourself (one of us). yesterday i read that oliver sacks considered himself a water bear and he wrote while swimming and had to swim back in a hurry before the lines disappeared like water in water, water to clouds, clouds to sun. 
since i was watching the human artist who makes crosses for the immigrants who die in the american desert i thought of that swimming out. sometimes i think the thoughts are meant to rise up like clouds and either rain or dissipate in the sun, but i swam back in a languid hurry to record what persisted (meanwhile i forgot mister's crunchy o treats and he looked at me beseechingly, distracting me). i wrote in the water, below the anxious threshold, the porous border, the desert of erasure where crosses where bones named and unnamed of immigrants found, where crosses appear as sacrifices where nothing's sacred and merciless the heat where some no one crossed crosses appear where water disappears and black bottles that absorb the sun crack in the heat empty where no family gathers around the lost members and jumping cactus grow among the crop of bones waiting for more immigrants to pass.
it always changes. it was different in the water. it changed on shore and again just now. the record always changes of it's own strange logic and accord. i don't think it's just me writing these things.