Running along the Hudson River this morning, for a moment I forgot my
feet were hitting the pavement as a rush of wind rustle the leaves of
the cherry trees and me- and when once again I was toe to concrete, I
wrote these lines in the notes section of my iPhone:
How sweetly nature embraces
The dreamer in breezes
From upon the frothy tides
And not if the dreamer- softly wakening, remains in bliss less denial
But as mother, god, is kind, sees past illusion
And beyond the trash, scattered, the hollers of a city at night, the
wailing of its children at the mess they themselves spark in a delight
of self misleading the self in fright.
Ourselves....
Blind are we, are you are he are I as her as you as we. Ourselves.
But the dreamer, opening slowly ones eyelids to bathe in streams of
song? embraces the extrapolation of "trying our best" and, discarding
all the rest
Sees the heart
Of one tiny blue speck in a sea of lights.
Sent from my iPhone
THE USUAL (An abstract sound meets iambic pentameter work)
The Usual The stink. The plink and clink, so rinky-dink, Our winkless cries went down the kitch’n sink. Oh, strum und drang. D’you k...
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