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Days spent

on foot cramps and back pain

over charged

on ignoring wants

Listen to me sleep

See my thoughts run

Never stopping

Just change shoes

to return

to old life

or push

into new existence

Where is me?

Have you seen her?

Lost in the 50cent rate hike, that took effect last week;

that still isn’t displayed, even though it’s posted everywhere.

Notice it all:

Shirt color

Dress length

How could she wear those shoes?

Yes

Once more

Scream through smoked chords that jesus saves

                Because it will part the flood of souls streaming towards you

 

Life.

City life.

Not yet combined.

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worlds hungover

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life reestablishing nights spent in strange worlds hungover in morning crashes through glass spilled on tile floors barefoot i clean and sweep and wait for the sting that reality brings but instead i hear the boom and flash outside and all my dreams are flooded into waiting danger unknown realities relying too much on you and not at all on me here i am coffee sipper job hopeful sigh reader….why do men keep talking to me? don’t i send off the vibe yet? no yes not here stay away keep clear…. unbeknownst to my self i harbor pity and dread and refuse to see the sun breaking through in the distance because here i just don’t know wanting new life created not to be pushed onto flooded cattle paths but to break the grid of existence and turn back into times when life was formed by forced floods and glacial retractions 

reading the clouds

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There
I learned to read the clouds;
engaging the power
of
cognizant existence
passed for ages from hand to mouth and
on again.

It was a way of discriminating when
darkness
truly was
rain vs.
imagination
constantly believing it would pour;
but here
surrounded by overgrown abundance
my vision is soiled
seeing nothing but immediacy.

Nothing
to read
I am left to hope and absorb and imagine
what there is to come.

Dear Tomorrow

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Dear Tomorrow-

What is there to do after you have lived your dream?

Now that the time has passed and the dream was lived I am left trying to (re)define what it means to be I and the realization that the existence which, for years, I have been striving for has come and gone.

So what do you hold for me next? What is the weather like? Do I need to bring a sweater?

Two years of living outside myself gone and now I’ve tried to go back in to realize there isn’t much left. The need for gratuity and appreciation filled, questions of I vs. me answered, value understood. So please, tomorrow, help me out a bit. What will be coming now? What are the questions I need to ask to fill myself with undefined direction?

There are so many things left, so many directions to go, but uncertainty about how it will all fall into place. So if you get the chance, great tomorrow, could you please send me a response?

-I

dear tomorrow

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dear tomorrow it’s me again and I’m hoping you’re well I’ve been thinking about you know you’ve been a bit under the weather with all of those plans getting changed rearranged estranged from reality and tied back up it’s amazing how you’re getting on and I’d like to know what the view looks like from there how everything’s settling out so where are you living and what do you do and is it as fine as you imagined to still be alone still I know I know there are plenty of people all through the day but does coming home to a quiet night still sit quite right with you and truly are you happy and when you check your shelves how many bindings bear a known name is it still the same view do you find true happiness in your runaround merrygo I am looking forward to getting together but there just never seems to be time there are places to people to here we are again but I’m thinking of you and heading your way and I wish us both the best

Dearest Next

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I can see you here. It’s no use hiding so no funny games, ok? How absurd of you to creep in, and attempt to elude sanity. But as it is, I know who you are, racing far ahead, grappling with what you see to be true.  I can do much better than you. I can conjure up images, slamming my eyes far away into the 2-year-old me drawing with muffin-shaped crayons. I can draw in vivid thoughts the blues, reds and purples that will be at my wedding. In shady lighting, I can see that my funeral will be full of laughter and stories of all of my ridiculousness. In calm yearning, I can see myself, who’s aged, bend over picking one glass shard up after another and place it on a board, inventing, and changing its narrative of what once was. I can do these things myself, knowing and letting them go in order to drift ever so more into life unbounded, into new ideas and into being present to Now.

So, dear one, of you who I once sought so often, and batted my eyes at to no avail, why? Why so sudden? Why have you come to return my glances, my homemade gifts left for you in crevices even I didn’t know existed? Is it that I’ve slept so seductively with Now that you realize you’ve missed your chance?

I’ve changed. Even I can’t recognize my-years-ago self, who would stare in timid thoughts at a clay lump, wanting more than anything to reach out, and sink my hands into its soft wetness, but not knowing exactly how to lift my mind to live. Without your help or cautious touch, I’ve created a reality, beyond which I knew could be expected. I’ve made my own golden ticket out of morning mugs, red journals, and laughter found deep within soil’s swaying trees, deep within the rapid growth in Spring from here to there. I’ve given up on your whimsical prance. I’ve refused striving in compulsion and stress. I no longer need to know exactly what will be in perfect expectation whilst living in overwhelmed intimidation of your shadow.

We can make a deal though. I do appreciate you and value your input. What about going for drinks during happy hour? It is all I can offer you. We can meet up, but you’ll need to buy the drinks, chips and salsa. Let me know if you’re interested. Next Thursday would work best.

-me

i’d be delighted

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Given the chance, I’d wish to be transformed into light over sound. Light flows and swells, pinpoints and highlights. Like energy, light comes to us as waves and particles—stippling the morning bedspread when grated by lace curtains, swirling in a warm pool on the midafternoon living room floor. Light colors our world and our thoughts.

 

If it weren’t for light, we would live in a blank and invisible world, creeping in dark confusion through an uncertain setting. Living as light would loosen my limbs and lengthen my reach as I touched each and every thing and brought it to life through color. Consider the pleasure of greeting the morning world and lifting it to greater clarity, allowing the choppy green of just-mown grass to become real, vivid beside the soon-to-rust red of the child’s toy wagon. Feel the delight of trailing through a sparkling stream, laughing with dark greens and browns as they filter up into flashing bubbles. Color is the warmth of our world—and it is light which allows this delivery. Imagine bringing the brilliant white of a wedding gown in stunning relief to the eyes of an anxious and waiting groom. Imagine carrying the flickering colors of a trembling campfire to warm its drowsy watchers deep into the forest-silent night.

 

Light is knowledge, is clarity and sense. To seek enlightenment is the goal of every person, every civilization. Why do we crave this understanding, this bright picture of truth? Were I to be transformed into light, I can only hope that some of my experiences would be as this inner-directed light. Turning within, shining a flashlight in the mirror, is the ultimate exploration. Humans may instinctively fear the dark, but this needn’t limit our efforts to understand our wider—and deeper—worlds. Hope, love, faith—all are lights through which we view reality, and it is a dark world unlit by any of these.

 

Inspiration and understanding are delivered by light, are reflected through sun and air and eye, and are colored by nature and emotions and knowledge. A beautiful gift, a power against darkness and ignorance, and a warmth rich with color—to be light is to open the world.