Was not this summer
the chance to gather up the grapes ?
Instead they turned their heads ,
steadfast in the folly spewing out their hate
The fall has come
and the grain rots
upon the stems of life
For the truth inside
the seed has been discarded
for the lies that leads to strife
Let them taste the bitterness
of wormwood and gall
Instead of the rejuvenation
There's winter cold recall

Put your burdens down, right here
Not forever, just for now

Let them know you hear their cries
See the blues under their eyes

Tell them there’s no need to fear
You’ll return to mop their brow

‘Til their tears are running clear


They’ll be waiting low, right here
Biding silent, softly weep

Strike a bargain, leave in trust
Then before they gather dust

Greet them as you reappear
Warm them gently in your keep

Carry kinder, hale and just


You have earned your journey pause
Try to graciously ignore

Any loud imagining
That you could be squandering

Chances that are there because
You are shrugging ache and sore

In your weighted wandering


It’s alright to take a break
Not forever, just for now

You are burden-carry strong
Muscles steel and journey long

Listen to your body ache
Needs a rest, if you allow

‘Til your steady ache is gone

It’s the morning of a different day—who knew there’d be another?
Lisa and I went on our harbor jog @ 5am—that’s nothing new.
It was, like 44°—we’re enjoying fall’s cold, refreshing bite.

Anyway, my mind wasn’t on it and I nearly stumbled over
a chunk of dark, uneven roadway, made invisible by its function.
Charles, jogging beside me, wordlessly managed to right me
without us losing a step and I smiled my thanks.

argh! I’ve got to get out of my head.

Later, in class, lulled by the comfort of the stiff, wooden chair, my eyes unfocused and the professor’s voice seemed to fade into the backdrop. Suddenly, he was asking me a direct question that seemed almost without context.

Metaphorically slapped back into focus, I scanned the room and the whiteboard for clues before awkwardly—walking the edge of catastrophe—bluffing it out, because, well, I’ve an instinctive reluctance to admit defeat with any sort of grace.

I didn’t sleep well last night. I had dreams—nothing with a defined purpose–just an amalgamate of bonfires and storms in a coastal scrubland with an odor of fresh cedar and a sense of casual vulnerability.

My attention today is like an intermittent pulse.
.
.
Songs for this:
Headz Gone West by Nia Archives
Dark Red by Steve Lacy

Ecstasy feeling
it's cut-cutting through me
It's like getting everything
a divine inspiration.

Greater than the sound
It's filling me loud
contemplating about going
a complete surrender
It's going to stop now.
Going upwards.