hello sweetheart
we have missed you
hows
an
word
picinic sound

we aint gotta whisper anymore
fixed my horn
when
it
thinks


it honks so
lovingly
here


honk it
hello
sweetheart
?









...
..
.

i told myself
that i'd never
do it again
yet here i am

three word title
you knit me


what posistion
has
an
garment in hand


before sewn

less my memory
be
turned
from stone
from what rock
seas been thown
answering
questions
from the great


unknown
what be known by the palms
of
my
hand
turn
from
me
the wrath of man


see me blind in this field
raise me
may
my
spirit
yield

from here to there
find me neath
the
willows


less once again
my soul be drown
in
poetry

this scaled vision
spit
an
mud
release


was it spit
that


made me



see



answer me




did that dirt teach me
to breath
oh great
oh mighty
oh mighty poet

who are you
why must you suffer
into me
one
line
after
another

your cycle for insanity
what has it brought you
he aswers
in
silence


run run run
run you
coward
"sinister"
what
is
this
poluttion

must you crowd me
with your
double
vision
you
change
every line
what have you
letter to self
letter
to
self


what coward
what knock
on
the
door


through the chaos
through nothing
at
all
lead me
back to
you




as
on
my
knees
we crawl
strip this
man
from me


you knit me
?

Apparently nowadays
What you have makes you who you are.

People look for monsters underneath their bed.
But what if I tell you that they live inside the mirror.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life. *-Herman Hesse

This willow weeps for no one

It hears the mountain's tears
riding on the backs of slow waves

This willow knows

that the sun's silence
is understood by every atom

It knows

that soon the rocks will rise up and
take arms

They will wage a war against concrete
and flesh

Soon the earth will heave a sigh of relief
and will resume feeding the willows that have
long ago stopped crying