my dear tender eyes
the smallest things are the greatest things
disguised by nothing
their beauty standing on its own and like truth
it can only be recognized
so my dear tender eyes take my hand and can you feel we are made of that same tenderness that tilts towards love

A million splendid subs could not quench my hunger for words so I tried to look outside “when the spirit catches you” pages and found life more alluring than any page
for creative then any hand to pen

I so sweetly give into my heart and my being who see no limits
who dream dreams bigger than I could ever find tucked in the furthest closet of my being
They are guides and I follow their flashlight that flickers through the forest and the city and I meet them at night and in the morning to join hands and write

And I knew today that I would not leave you
that so was my love I dissolved into a sea and could longer pick out the grains of salt that were me

I do not want to pick me out I want to the part of me that is you to live and wilt as all life does when it’s time comes. How many years, how many embraces–I want them all next to you.

He asks me how I know that song
it’s piece by Satie
I can’t remember when I first heard it playing
“I am no not sure” I say
it whereabouts lost in the fog,
grown small in the rear view mirror of my life
I stack words like children blocks to say
“I grew up around musicians” I tell him

Knock them down with a a first of “ I have listened to a lot of stuff involuntarily… I was just there like a sponge absorbing”

Satie will play on…
I will keep far away my uncles guitars and cousins counter with wires and pick ups
my brother’s nylon string and my grandmothers singing
“ I just really like music; who doesn't?

What can I do if my tongue does not want to stretch. I boil some tea in hopes that it will loosen its tea leaves unfreeze this iceberg of a lengua
I am an ice picker just trying to carve this **** thing but it is stuck and ten Hail Mary don’t warm it up, two miles along the river do little to exercise it; only my feet feel the distance but where in the world is my tongue–daydreaming in my mouth.I drink more tea hoping that it will be jolted awake by the unbearable heat of my pu’er tea like a woman who feel asleep at the sauna reddened not only by embarrassment but by the sheer heat.

The trees are about to defy winter
like high driver
1-2-3

Here they go