(Last dream first: she) plays the violin
Or I'd like to wish. A lie. The last tree
Becomes me. What to do? Build
A fire or a liar. A lie. How many strings?
Enough. To match her fingers. Ten. If
She played with her feet to begin
With, how would it sound different,
Be known? It's the same. (Scratch
Between the blades, muscle-red
Glade. A blue dress. A white dress.
I'd love the wide eyes hiding in her mouth.
I can see the sound as she thinks she winks.
Swallows a swallow. A hawk makes a round.
Asleep in briars, I don't mind.
Mind over music is fine.
I can rewind the film...)
improv. 12.22-12.29 a.m. 23-07-05
***
Stacks of boxes. The cat's here with me. She's sleeping in a plastic grocery bag. I was carrying her around in it after she crawled inside...purrpurrpurr. Trusting.
Seems the more we do around here, the more there is to do.
Tempers flared on next to final day total move out, gone.
Stiff apologies. Tears.
Not gonna be able to make SGATL.
Too much to do.
I can here this echo in my expectation as I type. Bouncing off hot pink and gunmetal grey walls...third eye took a vacation. Short circuit around the long circuit. I have no idea what might happen next. Not even real sure about what's happening now. Relax.
Funny to think that in infinity, all that might happen, has. I wont say "will happen". That's determintation, which should involve others almost never. Will power is useless. All that matters is flow.
***
Everthing is natural. We're elaborately advanced tool makers. Sky scrapers, fruit juicers, radial tires...doesn't matter. If it's manifest, it's Purpose.
What is seen to be obsolete is merely the residual of the smoldering heart of growth. It's lesson.
In visible smoke we focus.
I can speak for me.
But only sometimes I can never speak for you.
namaste,
rain.
Or I'd like to wish. A lie. The last tree
Becomes me. What to do? Build
A fire or a liar. A lie. How many strings?
Enough. To match her fingers. Ten. If
She played with her feet to begin
With, how would it sound different,
Be known? It's the same. (Scratch
Between the blades, muscle-red
Glade. A blue dress. A white dress.
I'd love the wide eyes hiding in her mouth.
I can see the sound as she thinks she winks.
Swallows a swallow. A hawk makes a round.
Asleep in briars, I don't mind.
Mind over music is fine.
I can rewind the film...)
improv. 12.22-12.29 a.m. 23-07-05
***
Stacks of boxes. The cat's here with me. She's sleeping in a plastic grocery bag. I was carrying her around in it after she crawled inside...purrpurrpurr. Trusting.
Seems the more we do around here, the more there is to do.
Tempers flared on next to final day total move out, gone.
Stiff apologies. Tears.
Not gonna be able to make SGATL.
Too much to do.
I can here this echo in my expectation as I type. Bouncing off hot pink and gunmetal grey walls...third eye took a vacation. Short circuit around the long circuit. I have no idea what might happen next. Not even real sure about what's happening now. Relax.
Funny to think that in infinity, all that might happen, has. I wont say "will happen". That's determintation, which should involve others almost never. Will power is useless. All that matters is flow.
***
Everthing is natural. We're elaborately advanced tool makers. Sky scrapers, fruit juicers, radial tires...doesn't matter. If it's manifest, it's Purpose.
What is seen to be obsolete is merely the residual of the smoldering heart of growth. It's lesson.
In visible smoke we focus.
I can speak for me.
But only sometimes I can never speak for you.
namaste,
rain.