Water the Greenhouse
Water the plants on the deck.
Walk Autumn Moon.

Salutation to the Sun
Yoga on the deck
Prayers
Angel of Air
Reading & Study with Ken
Sipping herbals & he, his coffee.

Pick up.
Moving the living room furniture
Rearranging. Sweeping. Mopping.
Clean the kennel.
Fresh bedding for Autumn.

A break for Sevenfold Peace in the sunshine.
Listening to the Holy Stream of Sound.

Playing with Autumn.
Laughing with Ken.
Continuing with rearranging & cleaning
Done!

Another break
With Ken, Autumn & Habibie
By the firepit in front of the shop.
Auti chasing water up and down and around.

Walk to Alli's, talk and pick up the key.
Cut broccoli, cabbage, carrots, & kale
Add a few pods of peas
Drizzle poppy seed dressing.

Two bowls with 1/2 cup of rolled oats each
Add cinnamon.
Taking a teaspoon
Half full with honey.
Dipping it into the center of the oats
Pouring boiling water over the honey.
Into the oats.

Stirring and stirring
Watching the cinnamon spirals
Mix into the sweet porridge.

Small cacao chips, sunflower seeds
A few raisins
Sprinkled as garnish.  

Eating together
Smallville, playing with Autumn
Habibie resting near by.
She maybe carrying kittens.
Too early to tell.

Tired. Good night. Sleep.
2:30 am.
Ken up watching a movie on is phone.
My, my, how times have changed.

Return to bed.
Writing, writing, writing….now it is done.

Breath, soil; breath and drink and bask in warmth
Slowly walk along the sentence that extends
The year before the year, the frozen and thawed,
Fruitless but alive with another day's growth

Made everything so simple, it became complicated
Found what I was looking for.. couldn't get situated
Now I'm just frustrated

My best laid plan was a dream all along
Tricked into believing about right and wrong..
Now feels like the right time to move on

I move from room to room,
A phantom in the morning sun

I move to fill the vacant,
I move to fill the stillness,
I move to mirror my interior.

Restless in the comfort of silk,
Confined to the four walls of my brain,
I move to an irregular beat,
My feet dance across the negative space,
Fingers outstretched to nothingness

Maybe if I move,
Maybe if I manifest,
I’ll find tactility,
Maybe,

bury me living
for i am in a world of dead

where the zombified stumble around
looking for meaning

maybe it'll make more sense
six feet under
and down the river styx

tie me to a raft
and let me drift

far, from this meaningless charade
known as life

I cannot resist your wriggle
your movement wrestles me awake
from my routine slumbering lumbering day
your breath
your wind are my oxygen
telling me I’m alive
you move from heart to fingers
and dance on the floor
of this keyboard
with your partner
pen on the smooth flat surface of paper.

It is more vital to write my heart
to write write write as I MUST
than to obey some poetry manual
or imitate Longfellow, Rumi, or Frost
or any other.

Writing your movement is like breathing
I cannot go long without it
you impel me to this place
this oasis
this pure land
these tropics
where I let you speak
and have your way with me,
you my magnificent muse.

Life flows in an endless stream of moments;
Like a river it has always trickled on with ease.
But for while, an obstacle has been in its path;
Sending streams of fate into parallel universes.
Soon when the path is clear once more
The stream of movement will continue;
This time, as a force to be reckoned with.