my love
I long to stare into your eyes
and never wish to escape
to hold your hand
your palm
flat to my heart, my skin
star to star
for my heart does pulse
only for you
my love,
mapped out upon the sky
so we may dance
eternally
among the stars
notes… simple sentiment is sometimes the cement… I may wax about science and the universe, string theory and things as such, but the great equalizer, is love… the greatest of these is love…
(sometimes stream of consciousness is just unfiltered observation, this is a translation of today)
a pair of geese fly over, I imagine married, one with a declarative honk, the other acknowledges grunt, and the sound I hear is “yes, dear”, and then they are gone (and yes they were socially distant).
staring at the tuning fork tree, because, well, it resembles a tuning fork, I am fixated on the view between the tines, what if that was all I ever knew, my universe, that little space was my entire world perceived, all the rest is apart from my view in that scenario, unknown to me, but yet, now, I can actually see beyond those tines, what I perceive to be all around, but what might I be actually missing inside the tines of my mind, I wonder, or be gracious for what I have seen, I ponder.
I project to talk with the breeze, not for answers, nor for a conversation, just to say thanks, for the wind is tireless at work, and sleeps only in the escape of space.
notes… went back to the office today, been nearly two months, my desk, well, it’s still mine, and no one stole my stash of hand sanitizer I had (bought way before the pandemic, a three pack at staples of like monster size and also clorox wipes), it was a strange thing, I felt apprehension at times, but those who have been doing this for weeks seemed more relaxed, I guess I will be the same in time, I must admit I am not comfortable at all there, even if we are running a skeleton crew (literally two) but our technicians are bringing back machines/parts from the city every day, that freaks me out, especially since this article today… those are all stores I know, and people I actually trained at some point, damn, it is still hot close here… but I made it I hope, tons of hand-washing, hand sanitizer, wipes, masks, all that, but every cough, every sneeze in the doors just flames that little flame somewhat… my good friend, a co-worker for 15 years, his wife has an auto immune disorder, a real rare one, and he seems ok with all this and she is good, so I guess I should be, but maybe my mind just does not work that way… but I am trying… and tonight was such a nice night it helped me drain out the doubt, a fallacy? perhaps, but damn it felt good…
contemplation.
sitting here, watching the last of the day drain out down into the horizon, everything becoming silhouette and shadow until all will be shadow soon save for the false lights, how all this now seems like three days, not just one which I ‘know’ it is, is this apprehension (fear ratchets), tension, anticipation, regularity creeping back in?
rewind.
I suppose this could have been a day I dialed up, weather wise, weather I would order a la carte of I could, a prescription filled if you would, this morning there was rain, the kind of rain I seek out on youtube for nightly comfort, heavy rain but not threatening, a gentle downpour if there ever was, and this was, no threat of wind whisking water into your window sill, so I open it further wide and tall, to invite in as much as the sound as possible, as good as my sound system is, there is no substitute for pure nature, you get used to the recorded sounds but somehow they are not the cradle in the arms that this is, I just want to curl up like cooked bacon wrapped in the blankets and imagine I am surrounded on all sides by the rain, the symphonic barrage, just hard enough collect in pools on the sidewalk quickly but not buckets bearing down on tin roofs like weighted bullets, no human sounds, no leaf blowers or lawn mowers, just this rain, this is the spring rain, you can almost hear the ground as a mouth soaking, slurping it all in, the thirsty roots, the shoots, the seeds, the spring, feeding on the energy from the clouds, nurturing, I could sleep and dream forever in these fields and this scene, the morning stretches out and feels like half a day, maybe, either way the rejuvenation is the same, and then my phone rang….
ah yes, still working, I grab a cup of coffee from my little magic pod thing, starbucks hazelnut (it was three dollars off at the store the other day man, who am I to complain), a thomas’ english muffin, toasted with faux butter (I do like it, I have to admit), I log on to my old desk PC (whom I haven’t seen in weeks or is it month’s now?), so I am at work (magically), not a bad commute these days, well, none actually, I can’t even recall the last time I filled up my car with gas, strange…
forward.
the rain petered out, as did the calls on my call board, and amazingly enough the sun is out, I almost do not recognize the sun these days (who are you?), apparently this was the first april in many a moon where the temperature did not crest 70 even once (in these parts), so maybe all the dreary feeling and dark air was not my imagination after all this impossible month, doldrums, doldrums man, definite doldrums have been beating on me internally but how quickly things spin and come round in an instant, the sun dancing and sparkling in the little pools, reflections bouncing, the fresh green of spring that much brighter, transformation, the birds employ to serenade this new beginning, a celebration, the uplift of souls on a wing, a song, just walking along my lawn soaking in as much as I can, turning my skin into a receptor of the energy of light, of life, wanting to spin like a top and never stop…
present. grind.
and the phone rang, am I repeating myself? or am I watching someone else? no, the call is for me, which makes sense being it rang on my phone, after all, my manager, well, one of them, one of the higher up muckity mucks, above me, at least, my services are needed at the office in the AM, is this how this weird fairy tale will end? I almost have forgotten the daily slog and grind of the past fifteen years, this seems like a foreign request, or even a flirt with death, or… I’m just not sure exactly what I am feeling, as I usually do I say ‘yes’, I rarely go against the flow at work unless I really have to, is that the best thing? probably not, but sometimes we are who we are regardless of who we would like to be wired like, so, pining away all this time to ‘get back to normal’, I have no idea what that is anymore, different pieces have been added to the puzzle the past few months, the recipe for normal is completely off, I am starting with fresh steps.
current. tonight.
so, sitting, trying to listen to the birds, somehow the human sounds have been creeping back in, my neighbor’s cars, his garage up and down, the slow hum of a freight train taking it’s damn time grind, traffic traveling on the main road in town just over a treeline in the bend of my street, car’s racing engines somewhere close, in the neighborhood I think, as night draws in, so I near the entrance to another chapter, at once – I used to think I was writing this tale, this book, but now? I feel just like a character waiting for the author to finish my story arc. and so, tomorrow I may find out…
notes… thanks for all eyeballs and likes and the like if you like, also, if you dig this post this is part of my ongoing Porch Project, a blog ? a diary? eh… sort of, it is what it is, so if you like this check out the whole darn thing (I try to keep it up to date you know)
if I could reach out my hand, as a receptacle, a device, a receiver, across the entire world, and touch all cultures, would I gain the answers? I imagine – I can out stretch my hand, more astral than physical mind you, outward, into the universe, as far as my imagination tethers or allows, for surely I can not imagine beyond my own imagination, even though the cosmos must probe past those regions I can not fathom, if I could reach out toward and into that infinity, even just for a glimpse of that all reality, what would I see? would that knowledge satisfy my human curiosity or make it billion fold explode, I wonder, all there is to see out there, in between the dead space, space, like death itself a web that holds us all in, a trap we can not escape, but life persists, even in the darkest of dark depths explored, and that is just here, on this one little sphere, I wish I could know more else, other worlds, other selves, surely life is out there, how could it only be here? if I only could outstretch my hand and touch the universe as a whole, I wish, and I dream it so.
singular mourning dove up on a wire, tiny silhouette painted against the grey shifting tide, coming storm, pays no mind, doves have distinct bodies, angular, familiar, kind of like a heart if you stare long enough, of course you would have to pop off it’s head, ‘what a morbid thought’. I thought, and so it is but I thought it anyway, not as if the bird was in any real danger, the wire is quite high, I could never reach it, plus I am afraid of heights, also, I don’t own a gun…
notes… hey, sometimes I am in a goofy mood, this would be one of those times… gallows humor is fine to swing on through at times, like this one
Shades of My Garden 