Spending time doing jive on backs of other peoples lives

As the sun clocks 17 minutes shining on a ****** in the brook

God has drawn the day for clouds to suffocate apologize and relax

Some dreams are worth a fresh & unwrapped dawn

Not even a day dream when the minutes become senseless past midnight could kiss the peak of the sun rising if you wait in line to see it

The most virile days of a conscious lifetime lived are when the roads still lead to nowhere and you drive and drive imagining too much to notice

If God’s eyes are loving before me, they have seen my heart build my body

If God’s presence gleans my hope all that stacks the earth atop soil and eternal people recognize and become bashful knowing knowledge is love and curiosity is breath that you can cry out if you are small with a giants love with a giants knowledge

One return erases the point and there are places no one has never been

Hope is accounted for in people who you rule out

6 lights have suggested
A birdcall as my will
To dig a tunnel under the stillest night
To echo the autumn, read the book and surrender
I guess the reason has overflown
6 lights show me the naked myths as linear as the thread of the town
I could not question that I wish to be held down before laughing in the rain
Press my love/ a huff for courage/ cleansed up in the trees /I drown until the sense is blurry
6 lights haven’t told the seventh a word
It has left its cordless phone in the room with the view too rough for memory
I can still see the doctor leaping from the bleachers
And the light has found a place to gleam maybe in that idea

Hopeless to the brigade of cars homing in down the vertical hive
I’m one and five with the sun and its love with the ravine begins with your eyes and slips in the open crater sky
Ringing the pulse of the ocean
Firing a fever through tunnel vision of the birds locked in trees
The news crusades from a natural alley and falls on a peaceful summer afternoon dream wanted and desired with every mistake of my hunting hand and my foreign eye
The rhythm marks the dawning between the cross and our barren golden afterthought of mysteries and dinner
The mammal plagues the songs from the mountain
The monks always cross their eyes to wish that Autumn holds the coming day

I am lost and on my my back with a view of the art 30 stories up
I am lost after sleeping for days
700 days and two less ways to breathe
and only familiar to the roads in dreams
and the burning torn paws made friendly along the way
and I waved a goodbye to a landscape obscured by tears but forgotten anyway
In this new beginning I'm an ally to all the neighborhood sounds that made me scream
I am undeserving of a new road and feeling like a sordid learner
of a book bound to the floor and written across the town
from the shade where I slept and peeled my knowledge from a glowing globe