there is a gleam, across the valley, a reflection,
I am sure,
a man made surface shiny,
I am sure,
no natural gleam of mica or diamond
blinks and flashes
as if
signaling to me, see, see me, reflect the sun,
seeming so
a sign
a significance I must grant synchronisity,
or ,
thought, what might
this shining thing be?

It is far from me and anchored, I see,
flash,
then flashy flashflash, light of sun,
fractaled -tole painted -fatal tell
light strokes on the future seen as this again,
once
more, the curiosity, was ist das?

A little mirror insisting, see, there see,
there is the sun,
topping the hill behind you, where you are
blind,
where I lack the power to signal a flash back,
for I sit watching,
in the morning shade,
yellow birds and blue, doing what birds do,
orioles and scrub jays,

magpie eyes in me, see that gleam again,
and laugh, I know,
what that is
signaling to me, see, see me, reflect the sun,
seeming so
a sign
of the times, for my report,

- Watch man, what of the morning?

I see a happy birthday balloon,
hung on a wire,

by a wind with a knot function,
naturally anchoring
webs, and threads, and strings and mylar shreds,
dancing from power lines
feeding juice to the drip system
in George's vineyard.

Be assured, the sun always rises
through out morality.
Re, nach einmal, crows caw,
and race down the valley
laughing, beating the call from the roosters.
Re joyed be,
re joyed being, noise of life in morning,
caws of crows,
calling crows.
and tweets and peeps of tiny things,
wake us all to be once more
users of light made in life,
doing duties,
crowing and cawing and
stretching and yawning and such.

oh, what a day!
Mitwoche, aber mas, mucho mas,
este dia, este dia
Vvoden's tag aqui, we rejoice
and be glad as on any given Wednesday,

as though it were like any other fine day
to begin in,
in relation to light letting
letters let the sense
of life seem true, sure things, can't loose,
choose, this day,
miércoles,
realizes its possibility… being the basis,
the one event that must occur
as in the night,
the earth must turn,
doing the actual cycle of living
in quanta mediated reality, ones in order,
this day
digital squawking alarms, flashing
red-lights and green, signifying
oomph enough, trickle
charged to aid my being connected…

to the task at hand,
this is the given
Wednesday,
I choose to pay a whole day worth
of rapt attention… drawing on
power stored in darkness,
dripping into day, clepsydra wise.
Wiping sleepy from woken eyes, to see the old new.

Salome, Arizona,
where she danced,
don't we wish we knew
what
that was like,
but
if you see the image,
Google finds,

"Where She Danced" building

some sense of stories that do
act a lot like
real
old stories that warn,
like half way down.

It all comes together by the thirty firsts, I think,

There was a point,
this is honing that, honest, it connects,
the nature of things is

different
for different things,

the child's empathy with stuffed toys,
try that with a real lizard brain,
when you feel real centered
knowing what manner of men we are,
that it is given unto us to be, and all.
Or be
at all?
Are we cogs, or co-gnostic self willed double minded
beings in a mobmind

doing our idiotic best to make peace

in the confusion, I aided in the development of.
by my lonesome,
I've a military mind,
and I've given that to the causal forces facing war,
in an epic battle, reason to reason

the mystery of iniquity is already at work, and the logos
are
all on my side, all the logos in the feed, are
sending ads to me, paying me,
wee tiny
bits
of attention, not to mention, the viral idea… gone
t'seed as a self, ya gotta love, simplicity,

but not too much.

The stones in the stream now,
we are not water,
we are not clouds,
we are like

minded men, wombed and un
running rock to rock
laughing and laughing and laughing

until nothing hurts.
Nothing hurts
the stones in the stream now.

On a day when I have my druthers,
as it is
commonly known, such druthers must be accounted for.

July 11, 2021 - word was sent that rain was in demand,
and nobody had any to spare,
except over there,
along the river Meuse,

I mused a minute, or more, on the similar
familiar feeling, as to why would I not believe,
I'd druther it rain in Pine Valley, Ca,
than on the drowning ancient vineyards in Lorraine.

If I had my druthers it would dry up a bit in Lorraine,
and the effort in the atmosphere that maketh rain,
that high or low twist in the winds,
pressure and osmosis and such,
this global ventilation system,
on the bubble we breathe in,
these should make it rain,
in the edge of the desert,
using Atlantic winds with Sahara dust,
agreeing globally with all the
seas and tides and winds and storms,
and the local dust devils dance,
adding to the distant
desert's given dust,
the bit of grip each drop needs,
to form, the signal
for your information, formed of molecules
that do, in fact, resemble Mickey Mouse.
- the Disney-if-ied mind app
tune to the druthers pulling, here, if I had m' druthers,
I'd druther it rained on my neighbors,
who are in desperate fear of flames…

so I can build a fire tonight and see Mars
through rainswept sky.

I, John, was on the isle of Crete…
Matala Beach, the cave with the
yellow hooka,
and I went native,
- it was 1969, I don't recall
- maybe if you were there
I agreed that a good paradox is eternal.

Lying, slow bellies there for? no, fore
there afore y'ken? Chew slow, its polite.

If I agree with the writings of paul,
you can fact check me, but
the point is if I agree his letters were
The Word of God, Jesus's dad, he
who abides with Jesus and me and
that family spirit and my family spirit.
And the fullness of the godhead, ******,
in the spirit, in me, too,
heart part, I think, or gut.

Yeah, this is where that makes peace,
when you swallow it.
After all these years. Shalom. Selah.