are we fibers or just strings or links in a chain I wonder as I hold you closer I imagine we begin to combine at the molecular level can we now pass through each other? or simply merge for a moment two spun as one no wonder the separation feels as this does
notes… lost love letters staccato style (as I call it), I am very aware of rhythm in my words and flow… maybe it is all in my head, sure, but those who get it are wired into my frequency, I do not expect that to be everyone, just you, so thanks for the time, any and all comments are appreciated
“and what I know of the silence of love speaks volumes”
notes… haiku? not sure, not meant to be, strictly, that is, this is something I woke up this morning and this was scribbled (OK, typed) in notepad on my little laptop friend here, I don’t even recall writing it, but since I am a music wonk it has beats… 5 / 5/ 3, funny how the universe works such things out (hat tip, universe, in waves)
perhaps this is causality and I am the casualty of- the rain a grey veil of gloom over even silver linings wane not some days not all days today, one of those lingering an insidious thought invades, breaks the levy ‘I have nothing’ or feel that way perhaps only because I ‘had’ I can not stop the swell, the surge the rush back, a rampaging flood now converges that a bound fist in my abdomen confirms my eyes well, we all want to travel back, to rewrite; and we do, in a way, down that path, in our mind but know, always know the foundation the truth is in the earth, hands clench this the cruelty of the steadiness of dirt support of life and burial of the dead roots as far reach as heaven, up into the air roots buried, anchors, always, memories a library, a curated collection rows and rows of known, wanton forgotten I am alone- most days this is not a bother some days a marker, a visitor, my own host I scrape for false shelter draw out the homilies on my lips all the words I left out a mantra to my burden to wait out the storm and pretend some more.
note… to any new people (as I am seeing more traffic), hello you (waving), my work is off the cuff, one off, unless otherwise noted, perfect? no way man…. but I post it… and here it is… when I write the thing it is visceral, you get me facial, that’s all… and if you like it … great, if not, also great, I appreciate the read, the time, your eyes, thanks… we are existing right now at this time…. which is a miracle, billions of the years of the universe have brought us together… for corn dogs… well, er, at least that or more I hope, so all your comments, recipes, thoughts, coherent rants and advice for my garden – are appreciated. I am the bamboo whisperer… I tell ya…