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.
in search of rain or perhaps some wine promise to sing whichever lends me the time to dance the whirl to let go of the world a hop, a skip, a jump from a curb fly for an instant downward splash forget all troubles blank-in the past ignore the future tunnel-in-to now take a deep sip take a bow, take this all in- for this is now soak up the time for your time is now. (with joyous intent)
/rant-on I do not think of myself (normally) as prey, maybe I should, maybe I shouldn’t, maybe it is like picking out your clothing for the day, formal? work? play? prey? I suppose… but there is the game, this pure silliness was put on hiatus for some months now as far as I could tell, but now is back in full bloom, at least this day, of course I am referring to the state troopers on stake out or look out on the roads north, arbitrary speed limits that change by town, speed limit signs covering construction zones that are not active today (the excuse is a safety issue which is fine if there are workers actually present, I get that), so what the hell is speeding anyway? I can be driving @ 80mph, all alone, and safely, or driving 45 weaving in and out of traffic like a blind bezerker on crack, or not even know where the hell I am, so which is the worse offense? everyone knows (with a little historical search) that speed limits were set back in the 70s due to the fuel crisis, which now, is actually a surplus situation, but those regulations have not… wait for it… wait for it… been brought up to speed, POW! pun play in the house! so I have become a lip reader, well, ok, more like a tail light whisperer and at the same time mentally noting the particular location enclaves of the traps, I imagine rabbits are the same, the ones that live have surely avoided such pitfalls, I imagine myself as such, mr. clean driving record that I am, it all seems so random though, I am not a speed junkie or speed demon or speed anything, but am I some rogue element for clicking a speed a bit above on a perfectly straight (mostly) road in near perfect conditions? sheer random stupidity given today’s car safety, although I have to say I am either lucky or crafty, or both, as I have managed to avoid the net cast out to catch my fellow speed crooks, perhaps this is all due to a rabbit’s foot. /rant-off
notes… no dis to the troopers whatsoever but they certainly have better things to do with their time than hand out speeding tickets.
how thoughts ignite in flames, bullet trains and maelstroms, so where should I start, so where should I begin? oh yes, a peach in the park, how might I endeavor to discover the clever fellow who placed this fleshy fruity fellow on this spot, might I infer into the meaning, the intention of this pit full globe placed perfectly perpendicular on the corner of this wall of laid stone… Should I become the king’s protector, a sampler, for a taste of hemlock, and reap the rich rewards of a job well done, unless I am done in by dining on this course, of course… Or is this the lost remnant of unrequited love, a date never met, literally a fruit not tasted, a memento of a moment not materialized, left behind in hest with heft on heart on broken, on further review, I do not think I like this interpretation… perhaps this is an offering to the goddess of the central, in tribute to this grand oasis laid in the land of no sleep, surrounded on all sides by city streets, taxi keeps and buildings that dare scrape the very rooftop of air itself, a thankful ode, a nod to the one who keeps this trove, a grove, in the middle of all the manic metropolitan bustle and hustle, to the power of that natural spirit that sings in trees, howls across the winds, showers clean with the rain, blankets pure with the snow, I think I like the romantic interpretation of this intention… Or perhaps this is just some cruel trick, waiting for some fool (such as this, me) to pick up said peach grenade to receive a face-full of blasted peach parts, quite humiliated as the secret camera is revealed and all the phones that know no yield, up on the net I go, famous for something I’d rather not, for at least a cycle, face covered in shame and peach cob, no, this makes my hand recoil, I look around quickly to foil this latest plot, but nothing seems amiss, but should I take the chance?
and with all this scheming, mind running, scenario scrubbing, a subtle stranger (as we have not been introduced), has quite gotten on the loose, for behind this perfect peachy day, a squirrel has stopped to eat some fruit… well, I hope the spirit of the park is not amused… but for sure I am off the hook…
Notes: I have to say, sometimes I have no idea where this stuff comes from, well, technically it is me (obvious) but these things just pop in my head, to me, this is whimsy at best, letting my mind stretch and wander into some unknown field and describe the grass there.. if that makes sense, and if you read this it probably makes sense, and for that I say…. thanks…
