A Science Kit


For months I have been thinking about paradise and I am now incredibly happy
that peaches are not routinely denigrated there.
I have also noticed that the moon climbing the sky has made its hind legs invisible.
In this way, my lonely heart was able to finish disrobing.
I was not inventing my happiness. I was testing it. I knew that my brethren
shadows would help, but I came to the conclusion that the night sky is the same story by
another title.
To unstain my experience would be to deny it, so I hold myself in. Sighing. For
months I have in this way been processing paradise. The absence of unreasonable
attachment to peaches which I had achieved had proved so much more difficult than the
absence of antagonism.
It had something to do with the way paradise can be imagined as relatively
comprehensible, something shaped by the container in which it is placed, something
which can be consumed without ever being used up. Like the idea of something which is
My mistake was believing I could live in paradise when it was paradise that was
living in me, and I just had to learn how to go there. I had wanted to go to some place
where I could be myself as I imagined myself, some place where I could decide what to
do with my new definition of happiness. I wanted to belong to the one inside, as if I could
be reasoned with, as if I could see myself from different angles and complete the picture,
as if I were rounded and knowable.
As if I were something that could be held in a hand. My hand.
Something juicy, resulting inexplicably from something that proceeded
convincingly in an orderly fashion.

Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.