keep death in mind and close
looking at trees and sunlight on water drops
wet air deep
parks and play
moments
work with hands
outside
sweat and breathe heavy
push
build things
work on land
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
2
moon tonight was hiding but i was whispered its grandeur
calm for a chase i rode with tea and pursued the pearl with curious sips
and holy blues
(the side note for the evening which must be dealt with - the ancient arrow, the bare bones of music, heard more and more as the blues begins to peel away into my marrow and i can hear it u-shaped on a couch, pure from love, being delivered the soul of robert johnson. the rhythm, the simple complexity. the more you hear the more you feel. the more it is you. like haikus, imprisoned in form, but scraping the greatest depths.)
rattling and cool air licking my face.
moon holding a secret light spraying the sky
giggling around the curtains.
i turn my head to see but no.
i choose to chase the moon tonight so i swerve sideways up a great hill, inhaling the monstrous mountains that outline the majestic evening with a jagged greatness that gives me an odd feeling of a fairytale which then pushes me down a rabit-hole of connected thoughts which leads me to now which happens often which is basically the strangeness of all the days and nights and the twists and characters and plots and terrors and creatures (as i pass by two bunnies moving their tiny noses on the side of the road, ears straight up in all seriousness)and i wonder at the hiding moon and applaud its great act for the evening, thinking i might catch the laughing face some other night if it tempts me a bit more, but tonight was only a small tease in a city of jokes and the chase is always on just like nothing hides forever and we still run everywhere after something, despite the loveliness of standing still, which we sometimes do too
calm for a chase i rode with tea and pursued the pearl with curious sips
and holy blues
(the side note for the evening which must be dealt with - the ancient arrow, the bare bones of music, heard more and more as the blues begins to peel away into my marrow and i can hear it u-shaped on a couch, pure from love, being delivered the soul of robert johnson. the rhythm, the simple complexity. the more you hear the more you feel. the more it is you. like haikus, imprisoned in form, but scraping the greatest depths.)
rattling and cool air licking my face.
moon holding a secret light spraying the sky
giggling around the curtains.
i turn my head to see but no.
i choose to chase the moon tonight so i swerve sideways up a great hill, inhaling the monstrous mountains that outline the majestic evening with a jagged greatness that gives me an odd feeling of a fairytale which then pushes me down a rabit-hole of connected thoughts which leads me to now which happens often which is basically the strangeness of all the days and nights and the twists and characters and plots and terrors and creatures (as i pass by two bunnies moving their tiny noses on the side of the road, ears straight up in all seriousness)and i wonder at the hiding moon and applaud its great act for the evening, thinking i might catch the laughing face some other night if it tempts me a bit more, but tonight was only a small tease in a city of jokes and the chase is always on just like nothing hides forever and we still run everywhere after something, despite the loveliness of standing still, which we sometimes do too
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