getting there.......

have you reached......?
but you're still thinking the words of your song......

you're still wondering if it's over.....?
you're wondering if it even began.....

you know you want a hanging snug sweater......
the colour of a forest......
a green as deep as a dream.....
and  not the sweet sort......
but the private ones.....
that make absolute elusive sense.....
with the trippy mandolin playing ....in the spaces of your hair.....

say what you need to say......
let that random rant mean the song of mourning when the last ship sails away.......
take a moment to sit on the dock wasting time......

let the vintage voice show you the way ......
you must dance through the mist to determine your steps......
the song knows the way......
listen to it.............


And while you do that......
Feel the crisp luminescent grass crush and dissolve into a light beneath your bare step...

the words in this voice....
on the torn page...and the ones left unspoken...unheard........
floating on the river............

chanted everyday in the heart of that monk in that monastery lurking on that hill.......

resonating through minutes.....

dancing at the teeth of that dog swaying in that smile while he rides immersed in wind that smells of poached sunshine......
keep on driving.........

forget those words.........
just remain here........

i think i'd like to be with someone who feels like a norah jones song...........

Heal . . .

The day was a colour of smoke- dry, misty, ...placid..

the spaces were trying to muffle the relentless mutters.....
like incorrigible hounds from a fresh piece of meat.

It became a gnawing drowsy unconscious bite held for so long that it became the status quo-
like the burden of hair.....

or the burden of this very physicality...
this deep urge to reach the apex of physical pain and then just a step beyond sounded like something that would release you from the very concept of physicality...
just burst out into space....

like the radiant powder of glitter from the balloon that just burst....

slow motion glory....

it's playfulness now....

drowsy balmy breeze detaching and blowing away all that doesn't matter to me to i don't want to know where.....just away.......
where it just stopped existing....

this space...

around my head and
through my hair and
in the sound of silence sighing in my ears....

it's dragging me to a cozy harmony...........
like the hum of a faint violin in a solitary winter night........
and silently breathing cherry blossoms.........

i want to stay here for a while..........................