we saw the film bill traylor: chasing ghosts. he was a conjure man, he made a world of mystery dance before our eyes. he's alive in pictures even though probably the greater part of his art was burnt up or buried. every surviving piece is a wonder. 

today i thought how at this place, this crumbled provisional shore, i come to conjure the ghost of mister, swimming east and north and south, among other ghosts, i believe all are welcome here. they like we like the water and the crumble shore. i can say i don't ever remember being ghosted by a bad ghost. i remember a chill in the upstairs bedroom in dad's cottage on the cape, but that may have been because i was a drunkard and afraid of ghosts per se back then. i have even thought of myself as an unquiet ghost. i do think ghosts may get stuck in rooms, and people may get stuck in bodies, and feel like their own ghosts, longing to be set free. i don't feel like that now, like i might need to leave my body, though i will have to someday. i hope to know when i reach the exit to just go through. i have malingered on certain thresholds for sure, but by the time unless it comes too soon, i'll be ready. and almost any place we set foot or a step away somebody died. 

i met an acquaintance from before mister died and the wall crumbled and said it's a thin place for me where i commune with mister and she was unfamiliar with the term but said yeah i feel that here too and the one who introduced her to the place many years ago died recently and she also communes with them here.

well i wish i was a conjure man and i could conjure my own little world out of this one. i dearly do.