25 february

brush it off
the color runs and the sky falls
there's nothing there worth bringing along
no room in pockets already waiting for something better
let me wonder where the else is coming from
i am thinking of something not in the abstract
imagining concrete - tangible, fresh, citrus to the eyes and air
walking in feeling softer than comfort - grass for the mind but also the earth as the feet hear it
i look for the taste i cannot imagine - hungry for what is not on any shelf
growing on some tree, some idea half-opening into colored power - a smell you can hear for miles
these are the dreams i cannot sleep without
come with me
or i will go alone along this jungle dream
this caravan of sympathetic cloud catching
the nets for release and the deep breathing we can hear in our hearts
full of wonder and the promise of baking the next away from what could never last
the cycles to try and to pedal through - taking the tops and shining the stars, the shoes
blues and othercolored music with glistening liner notes floating through the trees
breezeful waiting in line: pick me two of anything and i will try
crying out but only for more
push and fall back
catch and receive
learn more than the spin cycle allows - trousers and marigolds tucked in the baskets
grassroots efforts -- despite the topdown crownings -- the poorest choristers in glorious array
staying the seam and meaning the scene
intentional and full in the moment
to own it and to be /
both satisfied and curious
growth in presentbeing