..wander..wonder..

if i have enough
caffeine in my bloodstream
this once to rise and set and run
not away but long and far in the rain:
full and natural and pouring and floppy,
mindful of nothing but gravity,
touching everything greedily, boldly,
with thousands and millions of tiny temporary fingers;
everything everywhere feeds its falling-folly
with every offered surface
(uplifted or defensive) 
adjacent, juxtaposed: vulnerable and welcome
(like shy, hungry skin)

then i shall be compelled to martyr my good hair day. 

fivetwenty is the moment when people go out behind the shed
and argue over whether that cloud
looks like an eel or a piece of driftwood

and wish that someone had written a guitar tab for that one song
but also that they were good enough to play it;

perhaps the salesmen in suits will nod
or walk on by but today
i’m just thinking of this one
guitar solo, the one in the middle of ‘australia’—

i know you’ve heard it a million times, doesn’t it just bounce around inside your skin like that game with the bouncing ball that kills the bricks?

my days are stretched on two ends from the point
in the middle when i leave work:
expanding morningward in devotion to bread,
gradiating eveningward in the seeing branches of thought-trees
with no one to pull me back
if i accidentally float into the atmosphere

except you, of course! i didn’t mean not you.

and that daily midpoint is a seam through my week;
it pops across, a dashed line, and pierces
the way needles do, and
leaves a thread,
the way needles do,

and that horizon is the stuff in which
those trees grow.
trunks of silhouette thought-trees
rise from the stitches of my day divided
and one a day makes
a grove a month,
a forest a year.

always there is a place for my hammock
or my spyglass platform (w/pirate flag)

but sometimes there is too much fog to see any distance,
and somehow being above ground is worth it.

i heard an eagle the other day, and saw him,
crook-beak silhouette with piercing cry 

in your bag all day
is the walkabout opensmile of million
{sun.shine.}
daisies in my noisy yard.

like cabbage for lunch and {browniemuffin}
cabbage for dinner
—a great Nod, zeus-like,
a great Affirmation,
a Very Yes—

and life decisions undulate
like the most daily
of moon/for ocean 

do you ever do the thing where you are writing in a public place and don’t want to put in a title first thing because the font up there is so big you feel like the whole room is reading it? there are only two other people here. in the far corner. ..yeah.

today was quite productive. after a rendezvous with coffeegiving friends, the delivering of one roommate to her place of work, and lauuundryyy, (AND a buncha text messages which are difficult to write on the oldold phone i’m using because some of the buttonpushes are not effective until the second or third time) i took an armful of books to the bin (you know that one bin for books? the establishment, not a receptacle). my goal was $4.50 for a burrito. i only got $3.85 but i figured that was so close to the target that i got a burrito anyway con mi tarjeta. important.

i mean it was productive compared with yesterday which i largely spent within the square footage of my bed, reading a book.

my latest obsession is this. ‘saiah told me about it long ago but i just now explored it. thanks bro. it’s nice to be absorbed in something so deeply that i forget what is going on around me—that hasn’t happened in far too long. 

and i long for mountains, for meaning, for movement, for music, for magnitude. and i want to tell you about that tree out there by the river, the tall one that is so bare and so pale it kinda looks split or lightningstruck and the top of it looks like antlers or a wingspan skeleton; it looks free in its hailing of the tall atmospheric chill, in its defiance of the lowly, in its bold angle full against the west. oh! just now, in the past minute, it became a silhouette. the sun took its attention to lower and other objects.

this is my first time to experience a beginning of Spring (aside: i salute you, Earth, for orbiting thus far yet again) that is so entirely replete with winter precipitation. and you?

maybe i thought i would find the meaning, the magnitude, more quickly as my life became more simple. i do have lots of simple things in my life, and i love that. it still feels deeply buried—am i even aware when i catch glimpses of it? music seems to bring me closest, but still in some gloved and ambiguous and oblique way. i must leave this noisy place; it became dinner rush without my consent.

life is here, something of a 
Breathing way to be
and a Looking,
shining We the pinpoints of
consciousness
[having been] deposited
in a here&now
like the molecules in a crystal
or the plasm in a cells
or the stars in constellation
or the lines in a concrete
or the tumbling row of tumbling clothes
in a launder-laundro-laundrymat.
(but of course all with the Life amongus) 

impossible, We the probable
and the Defined,
needing the We, needing
a Looking from You
meaningful
like the way a movie hits your insides
or the health of whole,green to digest
or the sunshine relentless to your skin
or the real,sitting hills in a distance
or the Orion that burns with passion
in the vulnerable-anger moment. 

simpleBe=simpleLove