I wanna be locked in and deliver you the greatest highlights of life, blown out in cursive, bonded by word, trailing our infinite press.
i am finding variations on life, between or within days. may be love i experience or pain. may be a cold environment follows the friendly calm of tonight. nestled in my domain listening to chimes and fans beneath the weight of interstellar nihilism.
the cat cries out for no reason and breaks my sleep. now I know between these temples. Coca-Cola. the red can got the better of me.
my systems shot like nerves were years ago. I cannot hide. never again.
I believe it is good to be part of what is to come. Always a change. When you become it, staying exactly with it, they see you embody a movement and you can be credited, thus, you are the movement. This is not without dangers. You may rise and fall. You may lose yourself somewhat. They may disinherit you when the fashions change. I tend to shy from movements which are both conscious and public. I may identify with some, partways…yet I like to create space and step aside into it. I prefer my own rhythms. My own movement. Yet even personality is perilous. Life will go on so — become.
i wrapped my mind around a tree, fell ona bent knee. thoughts illogical, disorganized, scattered within a quarter mile radius of me. i would have to grow the circumference somehow to find some leniency of space. there were harleys, semis, and el caminos blasting through the place. i got tickled by the pavement, sandblasted in the face. i finally had enough. i stood up proud and centered myself, and left my thoughts beneath me. i walked into the middle of this four lane highway crossing a fourteen county spread. all the cars and trucks agreed to stop for me and the gray rabbit, the brown frog, the yellow duck, and the unnamed holy one. when the engines all cut out, we came to understand. we are all in this thing, together.
when all seems lost i look for four walls, some light, a wooden floor, my kittens, a wooden desk, my machine which connects me to the universe. when all seems lost i eat a salad, read a book. i lie to myself that everything will be okay. i get outdoors and stare at the sky. i go to work and get sucked inside office politics. i cherish everyone, especially the ones i least like. when all seems lost, i talk to my friend whose a painter. or another writer. or someone who cannot sing the alphabet. i try not to think. maybe i pray. all may be lost. i write a book about it. all is lost. i don’t care. all is lost. i don’t care. nothing is lost.
Created by a passion, shaped by forces both seen and unseen, driven by wind, confined to earth, dialed into feelings, fine-tuned by the moon and a heartbeat, enlivened by sun, roaring with water, beaming light and then darkness, laughing, conflicted, now humming with purpose, now drowned in thought… i become, out of stillness, and come to you. We are lucky, my dear, to appear on scene.
my thoughts turn with the wind as i reach around the planet, unseen, kept close to land and water by gravity and pressure. unseen, my spirit i infuse. i am openly in secret, yours, i am openly, in secret; together we face the world with all her feelings. we are touched…