Words

acknowledging that the song enters of its own volition

acknowledging that the song enters of its own volition

each morning, as consciousness filters its way through the warm sand of sleep, limbs and torso loosely feeling sheets’ texture, the weight of the mattress. there is an incomparable experience of both here-ness and there-ness, an existence governed by physical science – the mechanical snap 

rocking

rocking

lightness momentarily descends,
lifting me under the arms
with the crook of its elbows.

flat plane of the floor
through my shoes and the rocking
but not the weight of my skin,
my muscles, my organs, my breath.

cradle my bones
gently in thick, sturdy
rocking. the only sound
paper’s edge against
nodding arc, the oak chair.

implosion of ember
hope this gray morning,
dry grass golden and buoyant,
a delicate balance of young trees
in their winter silhouettes.

Post ID: 297

the path worn firm each step step memory stretched fingers break air and put soft sound to it fitting the hands like cotton gloves; a parting to move against morning light fits and throws leaf shapes to weighted wall a barrier to roaming sheep built 

day

day

wake.
dress.
coffee.
commute.
meditate.
interview.
home.
imagine future.
write letter.
make tea.
edit letter.
lunch.
send letter.
call sister.
organize files.
ftp.
play drums.
ftp.
drums.
ftp.
play vibes.
ftp.
vibes.
ftp.
more vibes.
update web.
troubleshoot web.
imagine.
troubleshoot again.
find scarf.
ride bike.
repair bike.
ride bike further.
unlock greenhouse.
wash hands.
find better soap.
wash them again.
water seedlings.
answer phone.
sweep.
pet cat.
straighten up.
feed cat.
answer phone.
ride bike.
solve problem.
dinner.
call lee.
david foster wallace interview.
thelonius monk.
think.
write.
make popcorn.
kiss phil.
eat popcorn.
twin peaks.
read.
cuddle.
sleep.

Post ID: 246

a dampened early walk to the bus just boots on frosty grass, night lifting slowly from ground a crocodile blinking its dewy eye in the still cold air before me at the corner is one car hinged on its side, another swept wide and sideways 

v.

v.

Our days stuffed, decision’s entitled palm a wind against our forward movement. Never tremory or apologetic but expectant, present like our own mirrored faces flipped. We answer most often without a hesitating thought, splitting seconds and significance with our guts. And those rare moments when 

Homing Pigeon

Homing Pigeon

Art saved.

Art saved.

Perfect equilibrium aloft in a tank expansive and ordinary basketball an urban outpost wrapped in physics and ritual. My orbiting matrona sieving sight from me most elegant liar to make me believe otherwise I want to watch you sleeping so shallowly in your watery hold