Felt and through and through
The light glints passed green and blue
and standing in the in-between
again the glow through blue and green
the moving still of the morning
and I'm left thinking:
I am finally alive and awake
and I'm still dreaming

They named the days "even"

These frequencies are filled with nutrients.

"so much beauty it can make you cry"

her dreams whispered truths at night
and silence was her dreams
she opened her eyes and closed her mouth
as the world unfurled

closes her eyes and back to dreaming

Like an innerspace tune up
by instretched arms
beyond their bounds
dream fingers turning
the dials of the depths
Idles adjusted.

The spiritual reboot

I'm here, man.

Boom and in
Then oof and up
Soft in the West Coast drizzle.

Sipping coffee in the morning fog
I can feel my old ghosts walking around here.
Mist paths and mist traces
the good, the many bad

I aim to collect them all into a group hug.
No one left behind.

out there under the purple morning dawn
out there under unreal eyes

swimming in the deep

Up and in the morning still-light
entwined and breathing
the birds of chests set free
weightless
into the new float

And then every moment–
precious.
As each had always been.
With the morning sun's
sober dream light.
Like rolling the windows down.

Easter's Miracle

 

L-R: Cousin Joey Wales, Easter Bunny, Benmont Jefferson. 

Only the beginning...

Waking with a lurch in the heart
Up on feet to the expectant day
or is it the other way around:
expectant to the day
chest of hopes
bottled up potential
...at least one hopes

we're pulling for you

and here, well
we can feel all of the inversion layers at once–
the instinct in optimism, fear, love, and tepid currents
the faces that come with every situation

But again, hope keeps us moving through.
Hope, and the good light.
There are sunspots to find everywhere,
even if just a moment

On with the winds
and the short drive
to the long desert fire
kick around out there
in the ghost tides
voices and ideas

Night for day-
Full moon shadow stride
in the glowing dunes

And from the change
the name of the games
became-
Going for even.

If you could dress yourself up in smoke...

From the top 5 things you don't want to hear muttered from your doctor's mouth when being diagnosed:

#2: "...fuck."

Thank you Fates,
For the dear souls
That make this life worth living.

Thank you Fates
For their putting up with
My sentimental goof ass.

Dawn and the heart skipping
The lingering dream
Soft and sincere
Face loosening
And tears
With truth

It is what it is.

Then in the chair looking
through the picture window
Out into the morning fog
The lovely bird jumping in and out
Dissolving in and out of the mist
In and out of the dream
Feathers red as the heart

Skipping as I woke

Fall in reverse
and good

Pupils on the skies
and a flow from chest
upward
like the winding
sky-stretched arms
of the tree

great the sting
and sweet-bitter the song
left in mind and up too long
we're squirming in our boots
shaking off the skin suits
licking at the sun
and breaking for the horizon
disclosed in lucid dreams
despite the skeptic schemes
of disbelief and breaking down
of selfish thoughts and buttons drawn
and pushed just to push you around
and pull you under ground

We're already breathing the open skies.
safe
sound
and ready

Coffee mainline.
Winds blowing in.
Sandblasted.
Lungs hazy.
It's okay to hurt when you hurt.

A cracking up of sorts

A leaning back
A pulling in of air
A wild push of everything inside out through the mouth
A stream of past brought to present in trajectory
like hanging dust passing through the light of a window
and just as warm
floating to settle
dissipate gently
and let go

then eyes open in bed
and feeling the body again
the heart in tact
the gut in ease and in place
and the knot of the the soul
loosened

back

heart to head to gut to hand

when the clouds clear
and the angry molecules temper
when the walls no longer
have anything to preserve
and raw nerves mend to
raw emotion

goddamned it might be too awkward
for this world
but wide-open
is alive and well

and it's absurdity is beautiful

is it the tracks or the train?

seeds of change
seas of change
time again
in bounty
but not to be taken
for granted

again in warmth and breadth

thinking too much
thinking too little

either gets you in the end

The Sometimes I Take Myself Too Seriously, Naturally But Not So Ironiclly Have The Distance To Notice It, But Still Do It Club

sent up and set down.
gotta tell these guts to stop wandering around.

they call it 'the way of the squirrel'
but i swear there is method in there

"waddaya doing in there? storing nuts?!" - Fred

atonally holding

on the path of signals
the frequencies change
but are in harmony

The sift and the sort
sand falling between the fingered lines
leaving a few crystalline grains
the seeds to plant
the energy to believe
and just enough reflectance of the warming sun
Keep your hand open
but don't cough
and the growth will come with the breeze

some waking
some sleeping
some in between

Night in the desert dreaming and waking
Moonless and bonfired.
Starkissed
Tea slid.
The sand blows a layer of skin away
And the smoke blesses it's newness
Carrying away the doubts and devastations of past routines.
Fresh faced
The open sky reminds you
That there is space and there is time
And that is now.

Now you drive back into town
Blowing dust trails.
As you descend from the Desert Moon.
Waking as you go.

glint

Woke up feeling like I was made of liquid chrome
bouncing warm amber highlights from the rising sun

lets walk

From one dream scape to the next awake
the long leg stride
that keeps each side
to a foot tied
with roots to feed the spaces that we make

 

history of miscommunication

in the matters of 'following your gut':

'okay' has become a matter of what doesn't make you feel like your soul is throwing up into your carcass.
'right' has become whatever makes your heart explode and your eyes tear.

wrap your arms around me
envelope me in electric warmth
press your cheek against mine
so that they can pass care

squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze
don't let go

until the sigh that cannot be sighed
is sighed

then again as lighter beings

Searching for the great warmth.

With little transition from dream to wake,
it was the light that told the difference.

hopes for an early Spring

old journal sketches coming back around: #1125

Dreams in Blue and White
you could still feel the warmth of the new sun
the Spring bringing life to the sleeping trees
the songs in the molecules
the wind of the road
and the smile from your face

Eyes open and dreaming
The soft light new morning
Got the mellow blues and
The glowing pinks

In those moments
You can feel across the ages
Float face up in the warm tide pools
Live a spread of ideas
Send messages to the dear wandering hearts and souls
And feel together.

old journal sketches coming back around: #1129

Pioneer

We grow up.

lung rain

Roger Miller and Willie Nelson

Screen Test Series: Entry #1 - The Sage

Max the Pug. 35mm film. 2002