(Train of thought......)

Singing strings slip through thematic theory.
Tracks and bends
jumps and thrusts
Dusts of translucent time settles 

Showing signs of
Home hung hats.   Always on the train

To somewhere. 

Thought to Thought 

to 

heart sound 

and

hunger pangs 

for 

resolution and respite in a 

resounding applause to
stand up for valor and 

feathers in hats, polo clubs and foxes. 

                                                           Exits stage left and balcony desperations

                                         woven into my thread 

                                    my fibers 

                           my being.          Fantastical fairy-teller gaze 

into your crystal ball and 

run away with me. 

Flee and fly to light up the sky. 

Climb lighthouses and weather storms. 

Paint me pretty colors to 

guide your way back 

                                                                                                                              when tossed to the sea.

Ritual // Scavenge

Satie and surf. It's time to return to the water.


In my less than ritualistic life it's nice not to think about anything but the water. Yet as soothing it's surface tension seems, under its veil is just as much activity as under my own. Life, death, scavenger. Feed from the particles that surround us, bleak lights in the dark, sparks of emotion and a generic cooperative spirit. But on the surface the in and out of the waterline ever moving, changing, eroding.

Let's erode it to the bone.


And it's as though our Spring may never come, and when Summer hears of this perhaps She will shy away too? The boats are docked and wrapped, the marinas lifeless as the enveloping grey decays movement, we live suspended in our nuclear winter. 


Contrite and obnoxious Winter halts all rebirth cycles-the buds are too shy to raise their sleepy little leaflets to the sky, and the does search for life within their womb.


I search for reassurance in these symbols of isochronality and none exist - retreat to the water, where at least her voice is there lulling the rest of the world onward.