can it be all blue skies? so dare I dream, and even consider such things, to know better, but wanting to forget that sentiment in the all-together, even if in the temporary transmission of that delusion, there I may seek to dwell, my perfect self, my perfect body, my perfect mind – all aligned, even if for a brief-breath, can whisk me away to dream land, a sunset over easy on the ocean, the temperature just right, the kiss of the sun just warming on cheek, water curling up on toes just cooling on feet perched in soft moist sand, for a minute for a mile, might I stretch into this thought island of mine, a breeze that wraps all around, not a sound but the steady heartbeat of soft fading waves slipping into the shoreline as far as this mind’s eye can see, to this blue sky, a photograph, to live in, to escape to, a postcard never mailed far from my soul, a destination for only me to know, held inside those most inner gates, an escape, from the every day, in plain sight, might I take this flight, to regain the trust, my trust, in the beauty of this world, unfurled, a collection learned from reality, to build brick by brick this fantasy, so may I endure and stay a minute more...
first light ‘ning bug, tonight for spring has truly gone, fuzzy lantern dangling hovering flashing signaling, a hazy bulb with a halo wavering in the humidity- a diffused lens
notes… the air is like a hot towel, more like the hanging days of august than the late hours of june… but this is now, so it is, even night does not bring rest, or a reprieve, the air wants to sit like a moist heavy sleeve, just soaked enough to cling to your skin, just enough to let a breeze be revelation – for a moment’s notice that is…. and then I see them, through the mist of watering my plants, little bells of light, a delight in other times, a child’s mind, bio luminescent beings floating in the ether, either I am dreaming or summer has arrived….
‘submerge’ at the end of all time I will be there standing waiting awaiting our intersection once more hand in hand to walk off the infinity plank into that depth, vast eyes locked with yours mi amor mi amor
note: this is all about form, fast haiku maybe, maybe something else, my own version of verse… but it makes sense to me rhythmically….
this song, this feel… damn, it always takes me back, got an album like that? the first time I was back in Florida after leaving her, I was in the Keys, the beautiful Keys, Islamorada, with my little Ipod mini, remember those, full moon night, my toes, dangling in the transparent azure ocean waves swaying, the only soul at the end of the straight out dock lined left and right with lights like a photo, watching thunderstorms come in like castles of invading nation states, floating battle stations in their own single space, separated and yet almost in wave formations, sparks of lightning- emanating, a show, just for me, just for me to know, she was listening…
notes… this is something I wrote on Facebook in one moment, one time, because it is true… and it really is… I thought I had video of it back in the day… it was surreal, and so transcendent..
a blink and a wink and summer will be gone am I just dragging me (and be extension you) down? to think of such things… for it is not ‘officially’ summer yet but who relies on such things? to me, this is summer already, or at least the flavor has dropped in enough days to accompany me to that place of actualization, relation, maybe I learned a little more this year, for some reason, like a dumb or stubborn squirrel I would save up my personal days like acorns made of gold, a fool’s errand to be told, so this year I took a dart board approach, looked at the big board calendar in all scope, and shot for random gaps in these coming and current months of warm, and so far things have turned up for the better, two days off three weeks in a row now… I am pacing the walls of the asylum with free time, and also (more importantly I can tell you) my days have aligned with the weather, mostly, the odd day of rain, good pounding thunder rain does lull me into a sleep, I would not equate to sleeping beauty, just the sleeping end of it, but mostly, and I am jinxing myself here, the climate has smiled on me, allowing me to traipse the wilds of new jersey (yes, there are wilds of new jersey) in pursuit of one of my passions, fossil hunting, not only are we graced with superior pizza and bagels here in the garden state, not far from my domicile lies in wait an open park where you are allowed to scavenge the brook bed (‘river bed’ sounds so much better but I don’t want to cast illusions as to me braving rapids, where I am braving perhaps my knee getting splashed), so you can actively look for fossils, yes, actual fossils, I have made a plethora of finds over the years, and even a piece I donated to a local museum due to it’s rarity and importance, but just being out there makes me wonder, among the nature a conundrum, where is the line between hobby and calling, or is there a line at all? this is my tuning fork or a place, we resonate, I feel at home, ankle deep in silty mud, spying a tray of gravel looking for millions year old treasure that is only really worth as much as stone, the exhilaration of the find, regardless of size, smaller than a dime, or smaller but still the thrill, or is this juxtaposition merely glaring to my position, here in my office, banging out the service calls and sorting through code, I can see out the window the sun, and how green the leaves have become, and I know I will blink, and the leaves will be gone, what about me?
notes… this is more of a diary post, still stream of consciousness about being… in a stream… go figure…
in the awakening might I tread lightly on as the sky explodes with dreams spread tethered out on cotton streams a requiem for a thief, for I am- a consumer of all things until I become threadbare, myself a baron of composition bereft of fruit to wither into the aether to claim my time to cling to life I, survive.
notes… we slide in and out of this existence to fast in cosmic time… I hope this is just a train stop in the converging line of time and dimensions…
oh dear fair moon might I take a bite of advice for how did you appear in the middle of my day sky but I suppose you are always there with a certain-curtain pull back so how do you bare, then? the view, not ever an interloper nor a guardian at our door a lone-cold observer from shore to shore, sights from rocky atolls to fading cliffs the observances of millennia- maybe this is jealousy? I’d invite you to dinner to hear the stories of your grand tour but can not trade for that to bear the calamity that will ensue so, alas, stay where you are perhaps another lunar trip will do oh my dear fair moon our singular notion our most loyal companion. I look up, to you.
notes… the day moon always gets my eye, I call this style stop and start, like letting the words flow and then turning the faucet off suddenly, not a staccato like I do sometimes, this is deliberate to show chain of thought, or at least that is what I am going for, kind of like a fence, a smooth line and then a post… if that makes sense, if it does not, I suppose you will just move on… as always, all comments are appreciated.
for am I faint my words are thoughts only whispers in drought carry-on in the airy realm- for my feet are not on this ground, my body- but a fading shroud a lone sense a vague sense of place for I was attached to but a name now my shackle is curious bound round the round I orbit this base just past the touch in the realm between of know and known this is this place, my home
notes… we are, in many ways a beautiful culmination a molecular miracle generation, but we are also temporal, how do we as thinking beings reconcile this? I don’t know… I know religions cover this, but how can a religion formed by us in these scant few years of human existence on this one planet, in the infinity of space, cover this? wrapping our heads around impossibility or inevitability is anathema to the human mind… because we want to survive just as the simple bird does hatching eggs in spring… that thread binds all living things, is that god speaking to us? I guess I will have to wait for my end for a real answer… or none… hence the conundrum…
in the miles of the blue pointed eyes navigate the blur imagine skimming skipping along like a trance or a song spinning through the air darting among with thrush and a rush, bobbing for air when the need arise coursing, like a vein these are the days of pure freedom swimming in unison with my brethren in these miles of the blue stretched out in all directions
notes… I think the music fits the feel of this one… of course I am partial, I am me you know, this is my blog so…
so, if we truly are- dust. then we may be familiar you and I embraced within the landscape for eternities pebbles on the shore- once we were meant to meet in this life of that my heart my love I am sure if only that I am sure.
notes… almost a lost love letters post which I am known for (well at least by three people or a little more) but this one… felt more general, I am thinking about pre life here… and after life… we are molecules, we have a physical component, so maybe we met before, on a beach, is that a reach? not to me, it makes perfect sense, maybe our attraction to each other is molecular… and ancient… and beyond what we think we know, we know so little, but don’t tend to really think about it… all stuck on this magic marble… spinning in some in•fin•i•tes•i•mal section of the universe… can we be that small ? no, we are that small, but that does not mean we have not met, a million thousand times before, why else do we coalesce now ??? your thoughts and comments are always appreciated… thanks.
Shades of My Garden 